


Dirty

by Racey



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 106,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racey/pseuds/Racey
Summary: An innocent night out turns into a mess of lust and danger.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo, Hirako Shinji/Hollow Ichigo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_Oh, round here we ridin' slow_

_We keep it gudda, you should know_

_Gettin' crunk off in tha club_

_We gets low, oh_

Ichigo nodded his head to the drugging sound of Ciara dumping from the speakers nestled in the trunk of his gun-metal gray, '91 Chevy Caprice Classic. The beast boasted a V8 engine, rested on twenty-four inch, gun metal gray and chrome rims and sported a creme-colored, butter-soft, leather interior.

 _He fucking loved his car_.

Ichigo leaned against the hood and pulled a small pocketknife from the back pocket of his blue, plaid board shorts, flicked it open and proceeded to cut a thin line down the center of the peach-flavored Swisher Sweets cigarillo in his palm. Satisfied with the results, he snapped the knife closed and tucked it away before peeling the split halves apart and dumping the tobacco "guts" onto the pavement. Laying the "leaf" on the hood of his car, he reached into his other back pocket and retrieved a small jar of Kush and his wallet. He pulled out a single hundred dollar bill, returned his wallet to his pocket and began breaking up the sticky green on the bill.

"'Sup, Ichigo!"

Ichigo raised his head from what he was doing and smirked at the shorter, raven-haired female sauntering towards him, her arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a voluptuous brown-skinned, violet-haired woman with golden, feline eyes. The girl that had spoken was wearing a white wife-beater, light gray sweats and white, low-top Nike Air Force One sneakers. Her dark hair was braided into five, skinny cornrows on the right side, the left side left loose, spiky locks being ruffled by the slight evening breeze. The woman at her side wore a skin-tight, short, black, off-the-shoulder dress with black, thong sandals and her deep, violet hair was swept up into a high ponytail.

"Yo," Ichigo responded, going back to his task of rolling up.

"Jus' saw Renji a few minutes ago," the dark-haired girl, Tatsuki Arisawa, announced, her equally dark eyes twinkling with mischief. Ichigo grunted but made no move to inquire about Renji's whereabouts. "He was in his car gettin' his top blown," she continued, amusement in her voice.

This made Ichigo look up at her with interest. "By who?" he asked.

Tatsuki scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Who else?"

Ichigo grinned and lowered his eyes again, taking in the evenly broken Kush leaves and humming his approval. He set the bill down on the hood of his car and lifted the Swisher, taking a quick whiff of the fruity cigarillo paper before dumping the contents of the bill into it. He licked the outer edge of the brown casing and rolled the ends together, forming a perfect blunt. Ichigo fished around in his pocket for his pale blue lighter, found it and lit up, inhaling deeply and holding it in his lungs, his eyes sliding shut in bliss.

"Pass that!" Tatsuki suggested aggressively, coming to a stop beside him.

Ichigo scowled and exhaled the potent smoke through his nostrils, the excess floating past his parted lips. "Fuck you," he muttered. "I just lit it."

The powerful urge to cough hit him a few seconds after the last of the smoke left his lungs and he succumbed, hacking into his closed fist. Tatsuki laughed and brought her hand hard against his back several times, making him glare at her between each sharp burst. "Light-weight," she chortled.

Ichigo righted himself and went about catching his breath. Kush had a tendency to deflate his lungs with the first inhalation and no matter how much he tried to resist the call to expel his breathing organs, it never worked. The sound of his car door slamming rose above the music briefly, making Ichigo glance over his shoulder as he took another pull from the blunt. His grinning twin brother emerged from the passenger side of the vehicle, wide mouth stretched and showing off two serrated rows of pearly whites.

Shiro swaggered to the front of the car where Ichigo and Tatsuki stood eyeing him curiously. He was wearing an outfit identical to Ichigo's, to which Ichigo had protested vehemently, only to have his objections fall on deaf ears. Shiro matched Ichigo's plaid board shorts and short-sleeved polo top, except his color scheme was purple and black, whereas Ichigo's was blue and black. His equally lithe body sidled up to Ichigo, pale face flushed and inverted eyes shining with amusement.

Ichigo let his eyes travel over the sight of his "other half", snorting softly at what he saw. Added to the nearly identical outfit, Shiro was his spitting image, aside from his coloring. Shiro had been born an albino, lacking the bright orange hair and warm, honey-brown eyes that Ichigo had. His skin never tanned, his hair was an ash white and his eyes were a strange mixture of black sclera and yellow-gold irises.

"Fuck ya starin' at, King?" Shiro grunted, his snowy brows furrowing, huge smile faltering just a bit.

Ichigo grinned, matching his twin's wide smile. "You. Why? Gotta problem with that, Shiro?"

Shiro shrugged and glanced at Tatsuki before giving his reply. "Nah, jus' wonderin'. Wha's good, shorty?" he asked Tatsuki, giving her a wolfish grin.

Tatsuki's girlfriend giggled quietly into her hand, trying to hide her reaction, but Tatsuki noticed it and gave her a withering glare before turning the evil look on Shiro. "Don' make me fuck you up, Ghost," she snarled.

Ichigo chuckled, finding the everyday occurrence funny as he ping-ponged his gaze back and forth between his twin and friend. "Arguin' all the fuckin' time. When's it gonna stop?" he asked to himself, still chortling quietly.

Shiro snatched the blunt from his hand and took a deep pull, glaring at him in the process. Tatsuki just looked away, her narrow face still stormy and jaw clenched tight. Ichigo shot a look at his brother and grinned at the flush traveling up his neck and over his cheeks, indicating that he was about to have the same problem Ichigo had had only a minute ago. Shiro exhaled loudly, then puffed his cheeks exaggeratedly, obviously trying to keep the need to cough at bay.

 _Five_. _Four_. _Three_. _Two_.

 _One_.

Right on cue, Shiro threw a closed fist to his mouth and spun his upper body away, coughing loudly and from his stomach. Ichigo felt his grin spread to his sideburns and crinkle the corners of his eyes as he guffawed at his brother, forgetting that he had been in the same predicament just shortly before.

Shiro turned back to Ichigo with a look that could have withered flowers. "King...fuck you, OK?" he coughed shortly.

Ichigo cleared his throat and wiped a stray tear from his right eye. "Don' underestimate the power of the Kush."

Shiro took another pull and passed it to Tatsuki, who immediately inhaled deeply, her eyes sliding shut and a grin forming in the corners of her full lips. Ichigo hated smoking with Tatsuki, only because she had the uncanny ability to smoke anything and never hack up a lung. Yoruichi had settled herself on the hood of Ichigo's car beside her girlfriend and was pulling a bottle of Cherry Lime flavored Smirnoff wine cooler from her huge purse.

"Yo, Shiro! Ichigo! Wha's really?" a deep voice called from across the parking lot.

Ichigo swiveled his head and was greeted with the sight of his high school friend, Renji Abarai. Renji sauntered over, his gait slow and purposeful. Renji was tall, muscular and extremely sexy. Ichigo had had a thing for him a while back, but nothing had ever come of it because Renji had an on-again-off-again sort of relationship with Ichigo's friend, Shuuhei Hisagi.

Speaking of Shuuhei, he was clinging to the tall red head, his dark, spiky hair standing up on his head and his coal-colored eyes twinkling merrily. He looked like he was already gone off something and Ichigo wondered what it could be. Shuuhei was wearing a form-fitting, black, short-sleeved t-shirt, black skinny jeans and black, low-top Converse sneakers. Renji, on the other hand, sported a form-fitting, short-sleeved, pale yellow tee, khaki cargo shorts and tan, low-top, laceless Vans. His hair was pulled back into a long, single braid, a white bandana tied around his head.

 _Yum_.

Ichigo held his hand out for the universal handshake between men, clasping Renji's fist shortly before leaning in to bump shoulders, then releasing it and doing the same with Shuuhei, afterward returning to his spot against the hood of his car. Shiro did the same, repeating the greeting process as he grinned widely. Ichigo always wondered why his brother was constantly smiling and smirking, but never had the energy to inquire about it.

"See ya got a nice mouth workout, Shuu," Tatsuki teased as she passed the half-smoked blunt back to Ichigo.

Ichigo cracked a lazy smirk at Shuuhei's expression; his dark eyes were cold as ice and glittering like polished marble. "Jealous?" he drawled, voice hardly hiding his anger.

Tatsuki threw her head back and exchanged glances with Yoruichi, who watched the altercation with an elegantly arched, violet brow as she nonchalantly sipped her drink. "You wish. Any-fuckin'-way...Renji! Ya still hostin' that trip next month?" Tatsuki replied, easily changing the subject and totally disregarding the agitated raven-haired man beside Renji.

Renji gave his notoriously goofy grin and stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets, rocking back on his heels as he did so. "Yeah. Ya still goin'?"

"Hell yeah! I'm takin' baby-girl here. Tryna have a good time."

Ichigo closed his eyes on the conversation, enjoying the feel of his limbs turning to pudding and his head becoming light and airy. His skin prickled, his heart rate increased and he was suddenly thirsty enough to finish off the drinks section of a supermarket. Breathing slowly through his nose, he grinned to himself, thoroughly delighting in his high.

 _Fuck even his toes were going slightly numb_.

Ichigo dragged his eyes open, the lids still heavy as he focused on Renji, Tatsuki and Shuuhei. Frowning as he realized his brother had disappeared, he swiveled his head around slowly, not in a hurry to unbalance himself and searched the crowded parking lot for the albino.

The parking lot of the local department store was unofficially the "chill spot" for everyone in their town, usually packed to capacity after hours, when the cops wouldn't be around harassing everyone. Weed, alcohol and plenty of narcotics were usually in abundance and most of the people that frequented "The Lot" were popular, or trying to _be_ popular. Either way, it ended up being a fashion show of epic proportions, from clothes and jewelry, down to cars and sound systems.

Right now, Ichigo was putting the rest of The Lot to shame with his custom Bose sound system, supported by state-of-the-art Alpine speakers and amplifiers in the opened trunk of his car. Licking his lips and sighing at the lack of moisture it produced, his eyes scanned the parking lot in search of his twin.

_Where the fuck had Shiro disappeared to that quickly?_

Finally, he spotted the familiar head of chalky white hair several cars down. He was walking briskly and seemed to be headed for the McDonald's next to the closed department store. "OIIII! Ya done?" Ichigo called to the turned back of his brother.

Shiro paused his step and whirled on his heel, grin a few miles wide. "Nah! Thirsty as shit, though! Want somethin'?"

Ichigo grinned and almost broke into a two-step at the offer. "Fuck yeah! Gimme a peach iced tea!"

Shiro didn't answer, just turned and continued his trek to the famous fast food restaurant. Shiro wasn't much of a smoker, but he could drink anyone under the table, Ichigo included. He and his brother were exact opposites; Ichigo liked to smoke, but he would sip something every now and then, whereas Shiro liked to drink and would only smoke here and there. They bickered and argued, but were extremely over-protective towards one another, usually causing idiots to get the wrong idea about them.

 _They watched too much TV, if you asked him_.

"Earth to Ichigo!" Renji's deep voice interrupted his thoughts, making him turn a lazy glare in the tall red head's direction.

"What?"

"Are ya goin' with us next month?"

Taking a moment to debate, Ichigo pursed his lips and turned his eyes skyward, absently appreciating the midnight blue, cloudless, and star-dotted blanket. _Full moon tonight_ , he thought. "Yeah, I'll go. Is Shiro goin'?"

Renji rolled his russet-hued eyes and shrugged. "Prob'ly."

"Well, then ya know Ichigo's gonna show up. Ya never see one a'them without the other," Tatsuki said, sipping from a pint of Hennessy. Ichigo smirked, unwilling to deny the observation.

 _It was true after all_.

Tatsuki handed the bottle of dark liquor to Yoruichi, running a hand through the loose hair on the left side of her head as a high voice suddenly penetrated the layers of music and rowdy talking. Everyone's heads turned in time to see two females walking towards them, both tall, both voluptuous and drop-dead gorgeous.

One was a blonde with arresting, clear green eyes, her bright gold hair done in a short, shaggy bob with two, long ponytails hanging down her back. She was wearing a pale green, stretchy cotton tank and light blue, denim frayed shorts. Cork-materialed, wedge-heeled sandals adorned her feet and smoky make-up made her sultry eyes stand out even more. Her companion had miles of swirling, sea-foam green hair and a cute, pink birthmark across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were big and wheat-gray and her outfit had to be illegal. She wore a sleeveless, cut-off pink top that bared her flat and toned mid-riff and a short, light blue denim mini-skirt. Her dainty feet sported pink thong sandals.

 _Two beautiful women that were probably more dangerous than most of the men he knew_.

The blonde, Halibel, approached Tatsuki and performed an elaborate handshake, doing the same with Yoruichi and the green-haired woman, Nel, exchanged warm hugs. She was more cheerful and open than her girlfriend, but no less deadly, as he'd stated before. Nel turned her wide, almost innocent eyes to Ichigo and gave him a huge smile.

"Itsyugo!" she chirped, her voice childish.

Ichigo winced at the name, but grinned nonetheless. "'Sup, Nel. Yo, Hal."

Halibel nodded in his direction, obviously not in the mood to speak. _Then again, Halibel rarely talked, so her silence was normal_.

"We just came from the movies," Nel continued, flinging a curtain of silky-looking, green hair over her shoulder. "Itsyugo, where's-"

"Oh-ho! The booby twins!" Shiro shouted from beside Ichigo, scaring the shit out of him and making him jump hard enough to drop the blunt Tatsuki had just passed back to him. "How the hell are ya?"

"Ah! Shiro, I was just asking Itsyugo about you!" Nel said animatedly.

"Heh," was Shiro's reply.

By now, the blunt was the size of his pinky nail and Ichigo didn't like working so hard just to smoke, so he left it where it was on the ground, knowing some religious weed-smokers would consider the action heresy in its highest form. Ichigo threw an annoyed glare at his brother, but immediately brightened at the sight of two large McDonald's cups in a brown, cardboard holder.

 _If there had been any moisture left in his mouth, he would have been drooling_.

Shiro glanced at him with a smirk the size of Canada and waved the cups past his face, taunting him. "Thirsty, King?"

Ichigo growled and was just about to lunge, when Tatsuki threw him off, squealing loudly, something she would never do in a sober state of mind. "Oh my god! This is my fuckin' song!" she screeched, sharp face flushed a pink tint.

Ichigo scowled and focused on the song, his brows relaxing at the bass-heavy melody thumping through the speakers of his car.

 _He actually liked it_.

_I can do it like a brother_

_Do it like a dude_

_Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you_

_Do it like a brother_

_Do it like a dude_

_Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you_

_We can do it like da man dem, man dem (hey)_

_We can do it like da man dem_

_Sugar, sugar, sugar_

_We can do it like da man dem, man dem (hey)_

_We can do it like da man dem_

_Sugar, sugar, sugar_

Tatsuki clambered onto the hood of Ichigo's car and turned to face her small audience, stepping side to side and belting the lyrics. _"I can do it like a brother! Do it like a dude! Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you!"_ she sang, demonstrating the song and grabbing her crotch while raising her free hand into the air, fingers forming the universal rocker sign.

She stuck her pierced tongue out and wiggled it at Yoruichi, who hopped off the car and started rooting through her purse for something. Ichigo was amused and momentarily distracted from his must-have-fluids mission, but at the same time, he wanted to yell at Tatsuki and tell her to get the fuck off his baby before he caused some smoke in the city. Shiro stood with his arms crossed after placing the drinks on the hood of the car beside Ichigo, which Ichigo took full advantage of by stealing the cup that held the darker liquid. The remaining cup was filled with something clear and Ichigo assumed that it was Sprite, so he grabbed a straw, stuck it into his cup and drank deeply, his entire body sagging with satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Tatsuki was still dancing on the hood of his car, Yoruichi tossing singles at her feet and husky laughter rising above the music. Halibel stood with a stony face, while Nel wore a wide, childish grin, full lips parted and owlish eyes crinkled in the corners. Ichigo only just realized that Renji and Shuuhei had disappeared; he wondered if they were getting each other off again somewhere.

After drinking half his cup of peach iced tea in one go, Ichigo chewed on the end of the straw and snorted at Tatsuki's rendition of Jessie J's video. _She couldn't dance to save her life, but she had the look down pat, that was for sure_.

Shiro nudged his shoulder, chewing on a fry. "Yer not gonna make 'er get down?" he asked, colorless brow lifted skeptically.

Ichigo grinned and shrugged, mind on the heavenly food smell floating from his brother's bag. "She's havin' fun, so fuck it." His eyes honed in on the red and white bag. "Oi, ya didn't say you were getting' food," he muttered, disgruntled.

Shiro rolled his unique eyes. "I gotcha some fries and a Filet-o-fish, King. I ain't a asshole, ya know."

Ichigo wanted to kiss his brother, but refrained merely because he didn't want even more rumors to be spread about him and his twin. Instead, he snatched the bag, a grateful grin stretching his lips as he withdrew the red container of fries. He inhaled the scent and nearly came in his pants.

 _Fuck_.

 _Food was like diamonds and pearls when you were high_.

The bass from the song shook the ground as he devoured fry after fry, until the sound of louder music muffled it, which in itself was indeed a hell of a feat. Ichigo scowled and lifted his head, wondering who the hell had the audacity to have a system louder than his own. A royal blue, 2009 Acura Rsx rolled into view, parking directly across from them, halogen headlights giving off an eerie blue glow.

Ichigo gaped, his mouth falling open and a fry tumbling to the ground.

 _The car was fucking beautiful_.

It was kitted out and probably no more than ten inches from the ground. The grill was custom and black, it had a rear spoiler, twenty-two inch, chrome and royal blue rims, dark tinted windows, the automatic sunroof was back and a neon blue light illuminated the ground beneath the car. When the masterpiece of an automobile rolled to a stop, there was a short pause before the doors opened vertically, gliding into the air with grace and finesse. Bass made the pavement rumble like an earthquake and the music was so loud, the lyrics to the addictive song were crystal clear, echoing over the packed parking lot, making all heads turn towards the car.

_We hit the club, grippin' on the ole heat_

_Purple in the air, middle finger to the police (fuck 'em)_

_Then get a dub, I'm skipping up the whole street_

_Tires lookin' like ya n***a sitting on some slow leaks (twenty-sixes)_

Ichigo knew he was gawking, but he couldn't help it. He had an intense love affair with cars and this specimen was orgasm-inducing. Not only that, but when the owner of the vehicle and his companion stepped out, he nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He wasn't used to seeing (only in passing, mind you) this man driving anything other than the huge, black, Cadillac Escalade he owned.

 _The rumored death truck_.

 _The rumor went, if you saw that truck, then you or someone you knew was going to die_.

 _Soon_.

The man and his friend were notorious. They were known gang members, had rap sheets thicker than the Bible, were always armed and extremely dangerous... _and fucking sexy as pin-up poster models_.

The two converged to the front of the blue car and casually leaned against the hood, taking in their surroundings with the air of predators. Ichigo found himself nodding to the song dwarfing the music coming from his own car.

_Hun, I'm getting' bread, don't confuse it wit' a crumb_

_But if I gots to reach up in this Louie then ya done_

_Them Rugers'll get swung, you'll drop in a ditch_

_The cops'll have to tape up the block like it's ripped_

_I'm so smooth but move the drop 'til it skid_

_Pockets fulla cheese like a mozzarella stick_

Ichigo heard a small choking sound coming from beside him and turned to see his twin standing frozen with his mouth open and eyes glued to the driver's blond companion.

Ichigo wasn't at all surprised. He knew Shiro had an unhealthy crush on the blond gangster, so it was nothing new to see him nearly swooning in place and it was also completely understandable. _The blond was pretty sexy_. He was tall, maybe six feet, thin as a reed, but lithely muscular at the same time and had a mile-wide, devious, piano-key toothed grin. His pale blond hair was worn in its usual, short bob, the bangs severe and cut straight across his brow and his golden-brown eyes were slanted and mischievous. He was wearing a barely form-fitting, plain, white, short-sleeved, v-neck tee, dark-blue jeans, navy-blue Chucks and a navy-blue bandana around his neck, reminding Ichigo of the old cops and robbers game he and Shiro used to play when they were kids. His neck and arms were tattoo-sleeved and thick, leather bands cuffed both his wrists. He was wearing his signature grin and handing his friend a wrapped Swisher.

Ichigo shuddered when his eyes moved over to the other man and driver of the amazing vehicle. Warmth pooled in his gut and his mouth, now newly moisturized, began watering and making him swallow convulsively.

 _Shit_.

 _He'd never seen a man more gorgeous and dangerous in his life_.

He was tall – even taller than his friend. Riotous, bright blue hair was tucked under a navy-blue and white NY Yankee fitted cap, but did nothing to hide long, unruly sideburns, the brim of the cap tilted up, revealing sharp blue eyebrows and intense ultramarine eyes. A straight nose led to a set of enticing, full lips and a pointed chin. The face was angular, the neck was strong and tanned, sloping towards a pair of broad shoulders and a fantastically muscular chest. He was wearing a form-fitting, short-sleeved, navy blue, white and gray, horizontally-striped Henley shirt, dark blue jeans that hung low on his slim hips, showing off the waistband of a pair of white boxers and on his feet were navy blue, low-top Chucks. His arms and neck were also tattoo-sleeved, but he wore a navy blue bandana wrapped around his left wrist and a black G-Shock watch on his right.

 _Delicious_.

Ichigo, already light-headed from his high, felt himself getting even dizzier with excitement and arousal as he watched the man accept the Swisher from his blond friend and pull a small Zip-lock bag full of marijuana from his front pocket. He had never seen the man this close-up before and it had his heart racing and his hands twitching.

The man went on to roll up a ridiculously fat blunt before lighting it and inhaling deeply. Ichigo watched his movements like it was his favorite show, tracking everything the man did. He wasn't really surprised to see that the man didn't cough after taking his first pull of the potent Purple – Ichigo knew what it was by the strong smell that wafted towards him almost immediately after it had been lit and knew that it was some impressive shit.

Shiro lay his head on Ichigo's shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Fuckin' sexy bastard," he muttered wistfully and Ichigo chuckled, raising a hand to pet his twin's soft, white hair.

"Hear, hear," he said quietly, eyes back on the tall, blue-haired man leaning against the hood of that miraculous machine called a car.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow grinned as he leaned back against the hood of his new car, proud of the job that his best friend had done customizing it. The once plain, white Acura had been transformed into a sexy, royal blue road monster, fully equipped with everything Grimmjow adored in a vehicle.

 _Shinji had showed his ass making this baby over_.

Speaking of Shinji, Grimmjow glanced over at his blond best friend and smirked. The skinny man was in his own little world, grinning maniacally to himself and toying with a clear, plastic cup filled with an amber alcohol called Remy Martin. Shinji was pretty much a lush, whereas Grimmjow was more of a smoker. He didn't mind drinking, but it didn't sit too well with him in the long run – _not unless he smoked first_. Grimacing, he remembered his first time drinking with Shinji ten years ago. They had been fifteen years old at the time and had paid some random guy to go into the liquor store to buy them alcohol. Young and wild and new to their Crip gang family, rules and shit didn't apply to them. They had been tatted up by the age of seventeen, their chests, arms, necks and backs covered with dark ink.

 _But back to being fifteen_.

Shinji had been itching to get drunk for his birthday, so after paying a guy for their alcohol, they had retreated to their home at the time, blue, plastic bag filled with their prize. They had claimed an abandoned house and used the boarded up residence to their advantage until they'd turned sixteen and had been able to rent an apartment together. Money hadn't been an issue since joining their gang family, which had come as an intense relief to the both of them, being orphaned in his case and abandoned in Shinji's.

The two had met at the age of ten in a foster home and had been inseparable since then. Anyone that tried to split them up was usually on the receiving end of an extreme case of bad luck. They had only managed to survive the one foster home together before their guardians couldn't take it anymore and sent Grimmjow to the orphanage he had come from. Shinji had refused to leave his side, even at such a young age and had eventually been sent to the same place, grinning up a storm.

They stayed in the orphanage until they reached fifteen and Grimmjow had been introduced to Starrk, the leader of the Crip faction in their town. After that, Grimmjow had joined the gang and Shinji – not one to be left behind – had followed him into being jumped into their new family. They had left the orphanage shortly after and the rest was history.

Shinji had gained a reputation for being a show-off, but extremely efficient in everything and anything he did, whether it was fighting, hustling, or even partying. _He put both feet into it all_. Grimmjow, on the other hand, had earned the description of "quiet storm" for his usually silent demeanor, but destructive anger. He only really spoke when he felt it necessary, didn't mince words and whenever he got pissed, he fucked up everything in his path. This had reaped him the privilege of becoming the gang's executioner, or in other words, the gang's hit man.

Whenever someone needed to be dealt with, it was his job to dispense discipline, punishment and even in some cases death. Shinji was his best friend, left-hand man...all that. They were mostly always seen together and did everything together, so it only made sense for the blond to accompany Grimmjow on his missions.

 _But he was getting ahead of himself_.

 _Back to the story_.

The abandoned house had been meticulously furnished with everything a teenager could want and need and it was made even better by the shitty outward appearance camouflaging the elaborate interior. Nnoitra – another member of their family – had a connect in the public service department, allowing them to have electricity and running water. They had settled down in the living room on a black, soft leather couch and immediately tucked into the fifth of Remy Martin, a smooth cognac that had made Grimmjow's belly feel like a simmering pot of homemade tomato sauce. The buzz he'd acquired from the drink was nice, but he'd wanted to feel more, so unwisely, he'd rolled up and started smoking a blunt of Purple.

Three pulls in and his stomach had been climbing up his esophagus, thrashing about wildly. Shinji had stared at him, slanted brown eyes half-lidded and amused. All Grimmjow recalled after that was an acute dizziness and stomach lurching before he'd been hugging the toilet like a lover and hurling up everything he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Shinji had followed him, snapping pictures with his stupid cell phone, but Grimmjow had been too out of it to do much to stop the idiot.

The next morning he had awakened, head resting on the rim of the toilet and pounding like a bass drum. His mouth had felt like he'd been eating sand all night and his stomach had been having its own adamant uproar. Shinji had been sitting Indian-styled on the sink, wearing a white tee and black boxers, giving him a cordial smirk.

" _Ya good, son?"_

" _Fuck you, Shinji..."_

" _Great, 'cuz I gotta shit an' yer in mah way."_

Grimmjow grinned in remembrance.

 _Those days had been fun_.

"Yo, ya sharin' er steamin' that one?" Shinji suddenly asked, borderline baritone breaking through his thoughts.

Grimmjow gave his attention to the shorter man and smirked. "Don' know yet. Why, ya wanna smoke now? Thought ya were a drinker?" he taunted, absently noticing that Shinji had finished off his cup.

Shinji's eyes flashed devilishly before he reached over and plucked the blunt from Grimmjow's fingers, sticking it between his lips and inhaling deeply. Grimmjow arched a brow skeptically, waiting for disaster to strike. Shinji was showing off as usual, but sometimes it tended to backfire and since the blond wasn't much of a smoker to begin with, his recklessness didn't bode well. Grimmjow leaned back on his elbows, prepared to thoroughly enjoy the show.

Shinji grinned, but his neck completely gave him away. It was red and the crimson stain was rapidly spreading up and over his face. A vein throbbed and twitched in his neck and Grimmjow gave him his best shit-eating grin.

 _He wouldn't last long_.

Sure enough, not even three seconds later, Shinji was barking like a seal and bent at the waist, his slanted eyes watering. Grimmjow tipped his head back and let loose a deep, booming laugh.

 _Shinji was fucking retarded_.

"How the fuck can ya smoke this shit without dyin', Grimm?" Shinji whined incredulously.

Grimmjow shrugged and accepted the blunt Shinji was passing back to him. "It's a gift," he grunted.

"Tch. Fuck that. I c'n still drink yer ass under the table any day, so don' get cocky, pussy!"

"Awwww," Grimmjow crooned before sucking down another lungful.

Shinji cracked his knuckles before lumbering off to the passenger side of the car. He rooted around for a second before reappearing at Grimmjow's side with a fifth of Remy. Grimmjow shook his head, his spine shuddering at the sight of the intimidating liquor resting harmlessly in a frosted, dark-green bottle.

Shinji eyed him and gave him his signature grin. "Wan' some?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Fuck you."

A cackle was Shinji's response as he cracked open the bottle and poured himself more of the dubious alcohol.

"Ohhh, finally out to play?" a familiar, deep voice suddenly inquired from their left.

Both heads swiveled towards the voice, huge grins replacing the slight frowns that had briefly appeared. Shinji was the first to reply as he stepped away from the car and welcomed their family leader. The tall, gray-eyed brunet had his arm around the shoulders of a slightly shorter, white-haired man with dark eyebrows. The man's hair was long, flowing down past his ass and he was wearing a short-sleeved, black polo, blue, acid-washed jeans and black flip-flops.

The head of their family wore a form-fitting, short-sleeved, dark-gray tee, black board shorts and low-top, gray Chucks. A navy blue bandana hung from his left, back pocket and his wavy, brown hair was swept back from his forehead. He was smiling and so was his partner.

"Yo, Starrk," Grimmjow greeted, going through the complicated greeting handshake that was now second-nature to him.

"What brings you two out here?" Starrk inquired, thunder cloud gray eyes glimmering with amusement.

Shinji shrugged and exchanged glances with Grimmjow. "Soldiers need ta have fun, too," he said smoothly.

Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. Takin' a night off is cool here an' there," he added.

Starrk chuckled, his voice rumbling like a truck engine. "True. I don't have to tell you to watch your backs out here, do I?"

"Fuck no," Grimmjow scoffed, turning to Shinji for confirmation, only to see the man staring avidly across the lot.

Grimmjow followed his friend's gaze and a wide smirk gradually creased the bottom half of his face. Shinji was already looking to get into trouble, if the expression written all over his face was any indication. The skinny blond's slanted eyes were narrowed even more and focused on a pale young man across the lot, leaning against a gun-metal gray Caprice Classic that was sitting on matching twenty-twos or twenty-fours.

Grimmjow whistled under his breath at the sight of the old school car that had been hooked up and obviously treated like gold. The man Shinji was hawking was standing next to a group of girls and another young man that...oddly, looked exactly like the pale one, just with a bit more color. This guy's hair was a bright, candy-corn orange and his skin was a pretty tan hue. The more Grimmjow let his eyes roam over him, the more he grew to appreciate his looks. The guy was sexy, wearing a short-sleeved, black polo top that hugged his slim, but apparently sculpted torso, blue, plaid board shorts and black, low-top Chucks.

 _Damn_.

Grimmjow let his gaze scour the long, toned legs, the slim hips and the equally long and toned arms of the orange-haired man. The palms of his hands started itching and he knew – without a shadow of a doubt – that he would be introducing himself to the man. Grimmjow watched as the guy gave a lazy smirk to his pale copy and a shudder ripped down his back.

"Heh, I'll let you guys go, then. Don't get into too much trouble, eh?" Starrk said, deep voice interrupting Grimmjow's thoughts.

Grimmjow turned to him and nodded, repeating the greeting shake, absently nudging Shinji's arm and bringing him back to Earth to do the same. Once Starrk had taken off in the opposite direction, Grimmjow looked at his best friend, who was looking at him, eyes alive with misconduct. "Ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Shinji asked

Grimmjow smirked and nodded, turning back to the stunning orange-haired man. When he didn't see him or the pale one that looked like him, his eyes widened and scanned the parking lot almost frantically. _He had never seen someone as fucking intriguing as the orange-haired male and he was damned sure going to get to know him better_. As he swung his head to the left, he spotted a head of white hair and pouted, disappointed that it wasn't orange. _At least the white-haired one would lead him to the one he really wanted_.

Shinji tapped his arm, making him turn to face him with an inquiring glance. "We can wait. I got some more drinkin' ta do," he said.

Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, eventually agreeing. _He just hoped the orange-haired man turned up before he and Shinji were ready to leave_ ; _he wasn't going anywhere without the red head beside him_.

 _Shit, he hoped the guy liked men_.

XOXOXO

Ichigo sat in the driver's side of his car, watching the two gangsters interact with one another, a secretive smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He was enjoying the view as his limbs tingled and his mind hummed absently. He was high as a cloud and Shiro had gone on another food excursion, so Ichigo had made it his business to hunker down in his car while he waited and watch the beautiful blue-haired man play with his friend.

The two men were leaned against the front of that wet dream of a car, the blond throwing back cup after cup of some type of alcohol, while the blunet smoked enough to put any normal person in a coma. Ichigo grinned as he watched the blond toss back yet another cupful and turn with a crooked smirk to the blue-haired man beside him. _He wished he could hear their voices, hear what they were saying_. A few minutes ago, Ichigo could have sworn he'd heard the blue-haired man laugh and the sound had sent invisible ants skittering up and down his back.

 _No man's voice should sound that fucking sinful_.

It was deep with a rough edge and Ichigo had wanted to walk over and listen to it all night. He was already dangerously close to being horny for no reason other than the vast amounts of THC running through his system and the more he watched the blue-haired thug across the lot, the more his heart raced, the more he wanted to approach the very dangerous man and get to know him...more intimately.

Suddenly, the track switched in the blue-haired man's car and Ichigo couldn't keep himself from fidgeting. He loved the song, especially the beat and as soon as it knocked from the monumental speakers, he found himself nodding along, his eyes heavy-lidded and body sluggish.

_I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded_

_Blunt in my mouth and these haters I'm scopin'_

_I'm just twistin' my body from side to side_

_(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side_

_I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded_

_Fitted pulled down and these haters I'm scopin'_

_I'm just twistin' my body from side to side_

_(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side_

Ichigo felt himself getting entirely too comfortable and warm, so he opened his car door and slowly stepped out, stretching his limbs and yawning loudly. _He was ready to eat and get some sleep_. He rotated his shoulders and looked around the still crowded lot for his twin, scowling some when he didn't see him. Shiro was taking his sweet time getting their food and Ichigo was getting restless and irritated, never mind hungry as a desert slave. The girls had left about a half an hour ago, leaving him and Shiro on their own, which Ichigo didn't mind at all.

 _He loved his friends, but they could be a pain in the ass if taken in large doses_.

Ichigo turned his attention back to the two men across the lot and froze in place when glowing blue eyes met his. His already dry throat went even more parched and his eyes widened incredulously as he stared helplessly at the blue-haired man keeping him rooted to the pavement with his gaze alone.

_What the hell?_

_Why was this guy looking at him like that?_

_Had he done something wrong? Made him mad?_

_God, he hoped not_.

Ichigo finally lowered his gaze, afraid that the other man was upset. He didn't know what to do, but his heart had gone into double time, battering against his ribs ruthlessly. He certainly didn't want to get on the bad side of the blue-haired man.

 _He loved his life, thank you very fucking much_.

Fortunately, Shiro decided to use that time to saunter up, arms full of bags. Ichigo's mouth instantly began watering, the smell of french fries driving him nearly mad with hunger. "Took you long enough," he grunted, reaching for a bag.

Shiro grinned. "I was only gone ten minutes, King."

"Ten minutes too long."

Shiro cackled and relinquished one of the bags, setting down the other and digging through it anxiously. Ichigo rooted through his bag for the heavenly smelling fries and stuck around five in his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the salty goodness. A small sigh from Shiro had Ichigo glancing up, wondering what was wrong with him now. Shiro had his eyes locked across the lot as he hungrily bit into a quarter-pounder with cheese. Those golden irises were shining with all kinds of lust and longing and Ichigo could definitely relate, except...now he was afraid to look over at the two gorgeous men.

After locking eyes with the blue-haired Adonis, he was more than a little intimidated and eager to hang on to his life just a while longer. Shiro swallowed the humongous bite he'd been working in his mouth and turned to him, a totally out of character, soft smile gracing his pale lips. "King, I think I'm in love," he mumbled.

Ichigo blinked. "BWAHAHAHAHA!" he shrieked, bending at the waist and clutching his stomach with one hand, his container of fries with the other. "You fuckin' idiot!" he said, still laughing hysterically.

Shiro frowned and turned back to the two almost directly across from them. "Fuck you. I'm serious."

Ichigo wiped at the tears that had begun gathering in the corners of his eyes and straightened his back. "I know! That's why it's so fuckin' funny!"

Shiro opened his mouth to respond, but his voice died in his throat as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "God," he breathed quietly, his mouth hanging slack.

Ichigo scowled, then turned to see what the hell had his twin so captivated and the fry he had moving towards his mouth fell to the ground. _He had only ever seen this dance on TV in music videos and such and had always thought it was hot, but seeing it up close and personal made it smolder and emanate heat waves_. The blond that Shiro had a crush on was in the middle of holding up a half-filled cup as he moved his feet rhythmically back, forth and around. After a few more seconds of that, he gracefully placed the clear, plastic cup on the hood of his friend's car and started throwing up signs with his hands as he continued dancing, the music complimenting the moves perfectly.

_I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded_

_Blunt in my mouth and these haters I'm scopin'_

_I'm just twistin' my body from side to side_

_(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side_

_I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded_

_Fitted pulled down and these haters I'm scopin'_

_I'm just twistin' my body from side to side_

_(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side_

The blue-haired man stood off to the side wearing a wide smirk, canines gleaming under the fluorescent light coming from the lot's lamp posts. The blond was grinning, his wide, piano-key toothed grin stretching across his features as his thin body moved fluidly, almost bonelessly like a rodent. Then, he bent at the waist and dusted the tops of his navy blue Converse sneakers before coming back up and continuing the dance.

Ichigo was riveted as he stared shamelessly. _He'd never seen someone Crip-walking in person_. The dance was so fascinating, he couldn't find it in him to tear his gaze away, until his brother shifted in his peripheral. He glanced over at Shiro and smiled. His brother was licking his lips and eyeing the blond hungrily, like a stalking lion.

 _It was quite entertaining_.

"Ya gonna say somethin', or just sit there starin'?" Ichigo asked, taunting him.

A miniscule frown appeared between those snowy brows before Shiro shrugged nonchalantly. "I could say the same ta you, King. Think I don' see how ya look at Blondie's blue-haired buddy over there?"

Ichigo snorted and forgetting the incident earlier, gave his attention to the man in question.

 _Mistake_.

Said man was again staring at him like Ichigo was his favorite dessert and the entree had just been cleared from the table. Chills racked his body, closely followed by a surge of warmth. The food he'd been eating stuck in his throat and seemed to grow as he was hooked by that intense gaze again.

 _The man was going to be the death of him if they kept this up_.

The noise of a paper bag crinkling made Ichigo finally turn to his twin, eyes still wide and astonished. Shiro's golden stare met him head-on and the look in his brother's eyes was one of determination and a steeled resolve. "I'm gonna do it," he said softly.

"Do what?" Ichigo asked, confused.

Shiro didn't respond, but then again, he didn't have to. His next action made Ichigo's breath choke to a stop in his throat, constricted his chest and flattened his lungs.

_What the fuck was his brother doing?_

Shiro set his bag on the hood of Ichigo's car and straightened his shirt before slowly ambling over to the two men across the lot. Ichigo couldn't take his eyes off the scene, afraid, on one hand, that his brother was walking to his death, but excited on the other, anxious to see what would happen.

As Shiro crossed the space separating them from the sexy gang members, the blond paused his dancing and golden brown eyes locked onto the white-haired man. Ichigo couldn't even fathom being in Shiro's position at the moment. _He would have turned to stone, paralyzed with fear and unable to approach_. Shiro was doing a hell of a lot better than Ichigo expected, so he watched as his brother made his way up to the blond, standing beside the man as if he didn't have a care in the world. Shiro's mouth moved, indicating he'd said something and the blond grinned saucily in return.

 _Fuck_.

Ichigo really wished he could hear what they were saying, but he wasn't too keen on just dancing his way over uninvited. His brother was displaying balls of titanium at the moment and Ichigo would be the first to admit that his balls only consisted of soft, slightly wrinkled skin and apricot-hued hair. Shiro and the blond were about the same height, give or take a few inches, the blond seeming just a tad bit taller. The blond stepped closer to Ichigo's brother and the grin he wore stretched wider as he too said something.

Ichigo had been so focused on Shiro and the blond that he didn't notice when the blue-haired man disappeared, but he did notice when a deep, gravelly voice spoke almost directly into his ear. "I was hopin' ya'd come over, too. Guess yer shy."

His face immediately flushed and the hairs all over his body jumped to attention as if a drill sergeant had just entered a room full of soldiers. Ichigo slowly turned to face that titillating voice, his heart stopping when he realized that the man was a scant few inches from his face. Electric blue eyes were half-lidded and lazy, but nonetheless arresting, full lips were turned up into a devilish smirk and the navy blue fitted cap he wore was tilted to the side, revealing bright blue bangs and eyebrows.

Ichigo shuddered, opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but nothing came out. _He was absolutely speechless_. The man's smirk widened as he leaned even closer, his warm breath fanning over Ichigo's cheeks and lighting a fire in his groin. _He smelled like Purple and some type of cologne_. "Wha's yer name?" the man asked and Ichigo just knew he drifted away like a satin ribbon in the wind. Head light and body incredibly numb to all but the fierce desire sweeping through his bloodstream, Ichigo nodded stupidly. The blue-haired man arched a brow and quirked his lips as if he were trying to suppress a chuckle. "Tha's yer name?"

Ichigo crashed to Earth and frowned in confusion. "Huh?" he mumbled.

The man rested his arm on the hood of Ichigo's car, encircling his waist lightly, his touch barely there. "Yer name. Got one? Or should I call ya 'Yes'?"

Ichigo pursed his lips, disgusted with himself. _He couldn't believe he was making such an ass of himself in front of this outrageously sexy man_. "Ichigo," he answered confidently after clearing his throat.

The man nodded and nosed his shoulder gently, making Ichigo's insides shiver and tremble. _What the hell was he doing?_ "S'nice."

"You, uh, you got a name?"

The man grinned and lifted his head, those piercing blue eyes cold, but searing at the same time. "Yeah."

Ichigo scowled and gave him a blank stare, aware that the man was being evasive. "Well?" he snapped, impatience making him irritable and also making him forget who he was talking to.

Those eyes flashed and narrowed, but a smirk continued to curve those enticing lips. "Grimmjow," he said quietly.

Ichigo rolled the name around on his tongue and decided he liked it. Choosing to return the favor, he said, "S'nice."

Grimmjow gave a soft chortle as he raised himself to his full, completely overwhelming height. He had to be 6'2", 6'3" and from what Ichigo could discern underneath that short-sleeved Henley, nothing but solid muscle. "Yer funny. Cute, too."

Ichigo swallowed forcefully as he raised his head to lock eyes with the blue-haired gang member. Grimmjow was staring down at him in quiet contemplation, his eyes so impressively blue, Ichigo thought he would drown. _He wondered what Grimmjow was thinking about_.

 _He didn't have to wonder for long_.

"OI! Shinji!" Grimmjow shouted over his shoulder, his eyes on the blond still talking with Shiro.

"What?" came an annoyed tenor.

"Don' 'what' me," Grimmjow snapped at the shorter man, brows furrowing. "Ya still wanna go ta the hotel?"

The blond named Shinji ambled over, his slanted eyes moving over Ichigo quickly before finding his friend's gaze. "Ya asked 'im yet?"

Grimmjow grinned. "Don' gotta. Let's go; this scene is old now."

"I was waitin' on you."

"Whatever." During the tennis match of a conversation, Ichigo had begun edging his way over to Shiro in order to find out what had transpired between him and Shinji, but before he could even make it, Grimmjow had an iron grip on his wrist, his eyes still on Shinji. "I'm comin'," he grumbled. Bright blue locked with wary, henna. "Yer comin' wit' us, yeah?"

Ichigo arched a brow and tried to tug his wrist free. _Not happening_. "Come with you where?"

"Ta somewhere more private."

Grimmjow wasn't being very forth-coming and it was beginning to irritate Ichigo. "Where the hell is that? I heard you tell your friend somethin' 'bout a hotel. What hotel?"

Grimmjow smirked and yanked Ichigo to his very firm, very solid, very warm chest. Ichigo stumbled as he lost his balance and in the process ended up with both palms pressed flat against the man's torso. Eyes going moon pie wide, he absently let his fingers trace the ridges of Grimmjow's pectorals, dipping between them to explore the deep valley. His mind had gone blank and Grimmjow's smell accompanied with his pure masculinity had him thinking the dirtiest things. His mouth went dry again and he tried licking his lips, only managing to make them crack from lack of moisture.

A large hand came up and gripped his fingers together just as they began sliding down towards a chiseled abdomen. Grimmjow dipped his head and put his mouth right at Ichigo's ear, making him shudder and sway in place with want. "Yer playin' wit' fire in a tub a'gasoline, Ichigo."

 _God, his name coming from this man was like chocolate covered strawberries and a glass of champagne_. _In other words, exquisite_.

Ichigo didn't even try to hide his pathetic reaction. He looked into those endless, ocean blue eyes and fucking _purred_. "I like fire."

Grimmjow's eyes darkened and narrowed. "Oh yeah?" he growled. "Follow us ta the hotel, then and I'll show ya fire."

Ichigo nodded dumbly, no longer concerned with...shit, _anything_. _He would follow Grimmjow through the very gates of hell if the man just kept talking to him_.

"I'll take this," Shiro said cheerfully as he gripped Ichigo's elbow and steered him to the car. "We'll be right behind ya."

Grimmjow blinked and nodded before stalking over to his own car, gait sexy and promising things Ichigo definitely had a mind to thoroughly explore. Shiro shoved him into the passenger seat, making sure he was comfortable before rounding the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. Ichigo received a cursory glance from the corner of his twin's inverted eye. "King, ya do realize we're pretty much goin' ta get laid, right?"

Ichigo gave a full-on, toothy grin as he swiveled his head in his brother's direction. "Yup," he said.

Shiro cackled and cranked the engine, Mike Jones, Slim Thug and Paul Wall blaring "Still Tippin'" from the speakers, the bass shaking Ichigo's teeth and making his nuts vibrate. He leaned back into the butter-soft leather of his car and closed his eyes, satisfied to see Shiro peeling out behind the floating Acura.

 _He was going to get laid indeed_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_N***a threw some slangs at me, Whoadie I caught that_

_I punish them lil bitches before they get car jacked_

_Now I'm lookin' for they family and pahtnahs to war back_

_If I ain't a hot boy, then what d'ya call that?_

_N***a disrespect me, I'ma be in all black_

_'Companied by some n***as bout killin' and all that_

_Me, Cory and Mer-C getting' ducked off_

_Ride top down, so we let the trucks pause_

_-Juvenile_

Grimmjow reclined against the plush, dark gray leather of his car seat, right hand gripping the steering wheel as he sailed down the nearly deserted business highway. Shinji was leaned back in much the same fashion, nodding his head to the beat pounding through the souped up speakers. The music was so loud, any conversation would have been futile, so they didn't even bother trying to speak. Besides, Grimmjow had something – or rather some _one_ – else on his mind and he was sure Shinji was in the same boat, if the smug smirk he wore was any indication.

Grimmjow hadn't been this excited about getting laid since he'd lost his virginity when he was fifteen to some random whore of a guy. The guy had seen that Grimmjow was becoming quite popular in the streets and had taken it upon himself to fuck him, probably hoping to be his main squeeze or something. Grimmjow scoffed at the thought. He never let anyone other than Shinji get that close to him and he definitely wasn't doing it for some gold-digging slut.

This orange-haired man, though... _Ichigo?_ Ichigo had managed to creep beneath the top layer of his skin and stick there; he couldn't take his mind off of all that lean, wiry muscle and all that smooth, tanned skin. Ichigo had really soft skin for a guy and it was driving Grimmjow nuts just thinking about what he knew was about to occur. _And those eyes_. _Ichigo's eyes should be illegal!_ The way he had stared into his own piercing blue, gooey brown orbs half-lidded and sultry.

 _Christ_.

He was going to fuck Ichigo through a wall tonight and there was no escaping it. At first, Grimmjow had been wary of the guy, wondering if he even liked men, then he'd seen the way Ichigo had returned his stares, expression that of a deer caught in headlights and his opinion had drastically changed. No straight man looked at another man like that unless he was in severe denial or just hadn't come out of the closet yet. Grimmjow's closet door was wide open, hanging off its hinges and everything. He had no secrets and the fact that he was gay did nothing to hamper his reputation of being deadly and not one to fuck with.

When Ichigo's pale copy had made his way over to Shinji, Grimmjow had nearly started dancing in place with excitement, thinking that Ichigo would come over as well, but instead the orange-haired man had remained frozen in place against the hood of his car, watching the albino guy in astonishment. Already encouraged by those stares Ichigo had given him beforehand, he had eased over to the oblivious man and started a conversation.

His hyper-sensitive dick twitched in remembrance of Ichigo's deep, husky voice and the way he smelled like Kush and McDonald's fries. _Food and weed_. The fragrance of Grimmjow's life. He could have wrapped himself in Ichigo's scent and gone to sleep, but he had every intention of getting inside that tantalizing red head before the night was over. After that, he might think about burying himself in that wonderfully perfect smell.

Ichigo didn't know what was in store for him and his pale buddy with the weird eyes. Grimmjow was sure Shinji had plans to make the colorless man scream his name as soon as they touched down at the hotel and Grimmjow damned sure had plans to make Ichigo shriek like a teakettle. That was a given, especially after the way Ichigo had been pressed to his chest, smelling heavenly and looking even better, then running manicured hands over his torso like he was reading Braille. Grimmjow licked his lips, anxious to get to their destination.

A lit convenience store caught his attention and he remembered that he was out of a few necessary items. Cutting the wheel to the right, he grinned when Shinji jerked and spilled a small amount of the drink he'd been sipping onto his fresh white tee. Shinji glared at him and Grimmjow read his lips over the music. "Fuckin' asshole."

Chuckling, he pulled into a parking space in the lot, shut the engine and turned to his best friend. "Oops."

"Tch. Ya piece a'shit," Shinji grumbled, peeling the wet spot from his chest and glaring down at it. "I should kick yer ass fer this."

"Shin, stop fuckin' bitchin', yeah? Ya got like a million a'them damned things back at the crib."

Grimmjow shook his head in annoyance and hopped out of the car, grinning again when he noticed the gun-metal gray Caprice Classic parked beside his Acura. The pale guy was behind the wheel, giving Shinji a mile-wide smirk, his strange eyes promising nothing but perversion. Grimmjow looked over for Ichigo and was happy to see him sauntering towards him, scowl creasing his brow.

"Hungry?" Ichigo asked as he approached.

Grimmjow snorted and turned, heading inside the store, the automatic doors sliding back and sending a gush of cool air at them. "I'm always hungry, jus' depends on what I'm in the mood for at the time. Ain' always food, either."

He could practically hear Ichigo gulp at his words, which was what he'd intended. _Give the shorter man something interesting to chew on_. They made their way past the first few rows that contained only miscellaneous items like toilet paper, paper towels, paper plates... _shit like that_. Grimmjow was looking for the refrigerated section and the snack section. He was in the mood for something cold to drink and something to snack on – _aside from the orange-haired man following in his footsteps_.

Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder to see Ichigo passing looks to his left and right at the varied items on the shelves, a scowl etched across his brow. Frowning himself, Grimmjow abruptly turned, grinning wolfishly when Ichigo slammed into his chest again, unable to slow his momentum in time to avoid the bodily collision. Ichigo turned those warm, sable brown eyes up to him, scowl deepening with confusion.

"What?" he grumbled agitatedly.

After a few seconds of just enjoying the sight of Ichigo staring up at him, Grimmjow remembered his purpose for turning to face the other man. "Why ya frownin' all the time? Somebody piss ya off?"

Ichigo did something that completely threw Grimmjow off and simultaneously aroused him. He blushed deeply. "No, i-it's just a habit. I don't even notice when I'm doin' it."

"Huhn." Grimmjow closed the miniscule space between them and lifted his left hand, toying with a lock of Ichigo's tangerine hair behind a delicate ear as he gazed down at him. "I think I like ya smilin' better. Yer dimples er pretty cute."

Ichigo flushed even more and lowered his gaze, shifting his feet some as the scowl disappeared and a small grin tugged at his enticing mouth. "I didn't know you did flattery."

"I don't. I jus' tell the truth."

Ichigo's head lifted and his eyes met Grimmjow's again. "I like that."

Grimmjow felt something hot roll over in the pit of his stomach, making him press his lips into a thin line. _He didn't like it_ ; _it made him entirely too uncomfortable_. Without responding, he turned on his heel and headed to the beverage aisle, intent on discarding the unsavory feeling he'd just experienced. He knew Ichigo was probably confused and still following behind him, but he didn't know what to say.

 _No, scratch that_.

He refused to say anything that might result in him not getting laid. He would fuck the hell out of Ichigo and then send him on his way, as was his usual. _No complications, no sticky situations_. _Easy_. He gave Ichigo another glance over his shoulder and gritted his teeth at the sight of those brown eyes fixed on him, making his stomach churn and ignite again.

 _Easy_... _right?_

XOXOXO

Shinji swaggered his way out of Grimmjow's car and made it over to the gray car beside it, a huge smile splitting his angular face in half. His eyes were glued to the albino that was smoking hot and sliding out of the driver's seat to greet him. The gray car's door slammed shut and Shinji watched as Shiro lazily leaned against it, a smirk rivaling his own gracing his pale features.

Ever since Shinji had spotted him earlier at The Lot, he'd been thinking of nothing but getting into those purple plaid board shorts and seeking his prize and it was obvious that Shiro felt the exact same way. The albino had approached him after exchanging many heated glances and started an interesting conversation.

" _Yo, wha's yer name?"_

_Shinji grinned and tilted his head to the side as he studied the other man closely. A few seconds passed before he finally spoke. "Shinji. Wha's yers, sexy?"_

" _Shiro. Yer sexy yer damned self. I guess this makes things easier, since I was sure you would either kill me or humiliate me for comin' over here."_

" _Now, why would I do somethin' like that? I would never destroy something as interestin' as you."_

" _Really? That's good. I ain' gonna lie, Shinji. I've been watchin' ya ever since you an' yer buddy got here and I gotta say I'm hella attracted ta ya."_

" _Heh. No beatin' around the bush fer you, huh?"_

" _Nah. I figure ya want somethin', ya gotta go get it, right?"_

_Shinji edged closer and nodded his agreement. "Yeah. I like yer logic, Shiro._

From there, they had chatted a bit more and ultimately agreed to leave The Lot together, headed for a hotel to get to know each other a little better. Grimmjow was busy trying to get with Shiro's friend with the bright orange hair and Shinji was relieved. He didn't have to worry about feeling bad for finding someone to get into, while Grimmjow had no one. Not that his best friend _couldn't_ find anyone; most times Grimmjow just didn't want to be bothered. He wasn't too big on socializing and he was really wary of hooking up with people. He was paranoid most times and didn't trust anyone at all – except Shinji, of course.

After being best friends with the blue-haired man for over ten years, he was more than used to his particular behavior and no longer thought it weird. Shinji could actually see why Grimmjow didn't trust anyone in that sense. He'd tried once years ago and had been excruciatingly burned – in both manners of the word. The guy he had given a chance to, had given him gonorrhea and on top of everything, had ended up cheating on Grimmjow and stealing over five thousand dollars from him.

 _Needless to say, that man no longer existed_.

Grimmjow had been hurt and angry over it, but had tucked it away inside of himself, never bringing it up and when the man's name did happen to surface in a conversation, Grimmjow pretended not to know what the hell Shinji was talking about. Even Shinji knew that that was unhealthy, but he wasn't about to pressure his friend about the touchy situation.

Shinji had been pissed right along with his best friend after he'd found out what had occurred and had wanted to go looking for the piece of shit himself, but Grimmjow had given him his I-mean-business look and Shinji had had no choice but to back down and let Grimmjow handle the situation on his own.

Brushing those negative thoughts aside like an irritating bug, Shinji turned his attention back to Shiro. "Yer not goin' in?" he asked the albino.

Shiro smirked and shook his head. "Nah, I ain't hungry. 'Sides, I think maybe King and yer friend wanna be alone."

"King?"

"Yeah, Ichigo. I call him King."

"Why?"

"Well, we're twins, but he's 'bout an hour older than me."

Shinji jerked, startled at the revelation. "Y-yer twins?" he asked incredulously.

 _He'd never fucked a twin before, you see_.

Shiro nodded this time, his golden irises glowing with amusement. "Yup. 'Cept, as you can see, I was born an albino, whereas King looks like our mom."

Shinji just stared at Shiro, searching out the similarities between him and the orange-haired man and concluded that Shiro had to be telling the truth. They did resemble each other greatly, aside from Shiro's lack of color, of course. Their builds were the same, their features were the same down to their smiles and hair styles.

 _It was almost eerie_.

"Heh. Wait 'til Grimm hears this," he muttered to himself, sure that his best friend would be intrigued by the news. Deciding they had discussed Shiro's brother enough, Shinji stepped into the albino's space and braced his arms against the car on either side of the other man, smirk tilting his wide mouth upwards. Shiro arched a chalky brow, his grin devouring the bottom half of his face. "Watchu grinnin' at?" Shinji murmured, mouth centimeters from the shorter man's.

"This extremely bad blond. Know 'im?"

Shinji chortled under his breath, loving Shiro's playfulness. "Think I seen him 'round a few times. Ya gotta thing fer this blond?"

Shiro's eyes flashed briefly and his jaw twitched, smile faltering just a second. "Yeah, I do. Been that way for some time now."

Shinji almost frowned, but didn't want to give Shiro the wrong impression. He was unsure of how to proceed. It sounded like Shiro had been crushing on him for a while and Shinji was pretty much a rolling stone; he hated being tied down to one person and he was pretty sure that fucking Shiro would cause a few unnecessary complications in his life.

 _Something he just didn't need at the moment_. _Probably ever, if he was honest with himself_.

The life he led didn't allow for serious relationships. There was always the danger of someone using that person against him, or of that person betraying him. He'd learned from Grimmjow's experience not to trust just anyone and that being in a relationship was hazardous to his health.

 _Still_...

Shinji focused his gaze on the pale figure in front of him and stifled a sigh. He'd only known Shiro for a few minutes and already the man was getting to him. Shinji had never met someone as feisty and cool as Shiro and although he had strict rules about allowing anyone close to himself, he wanted to get to know this man in more ways than one.

Forcefully silencing his rowdy conscience, he leaned into Shiro and pressed his lips to those full, pale ones. _Fuck it_. _He'd never been that rational in the first place_. _Not to mention, the copious amounts of alcohol swimming through his bloodstream, making him ridiculously horny_. Shiro sighed noisily and lifted his arms, resting his hands on Shinji's biceps as he deepened the kiss, sweeping a hot tongue across Shinji's bottom lip almost immediately.

Warmth pooled in his gut as he angled his head to the side, allowing Shiro entrance to his mouth. He grunted and pressed his long body against the other man's, marveling at his distinct taste. Blood roared in his ears, trying to make it hard to concentrate, but the feeling of Shiro's tongue probing, caressing and searching his mouth had him almost desperate with need and drunk with lust.

He'd only ever in his life kissed two people this way. One had been Grimmjow when they'd only been thirteen and curious. The other had been the guy he'd given his virginity to, with Shinji thinking that kissing was supposed to occur between two people about to have sex. He'd out-grown that line of thinking as he'd gotten older, so the fact that he was now kissing Shiro – who he'd only known for a total of one hour at the most – was astonishing, even to himself.

Shiro tugged on his biceps, trying to pull him closer, but there was no more space left between them. Shinji groaned as he felt a wayward hand inching its way down his arm and side, heading south for his hip and finally landing on his semi-erect arousal. Shinji cupped the back of Shiro's neck and forced the albino's tongue back into his mouth, closely following it with his own. He traced Shiro's teeth with his tongue, delighting in the moans coming from the wanton man before him, knowing he wouldn't be able to wait to get to the hotel if they kept at it like this.

Suddenly, something cold, hard and blunt was pressed against the back of his head, halting the kiss instantly. His eyes sprang open as he slowly eased away from Shiro's drugging lips and wet tongue, wondering who the fuck had the audacity to hold _him_ at gunpoint. Shiro's eyes blinked open and searched his face in highly aroused confusion, half-lidded and sexy. If the circumstances had been different, Shinji would have considered continuing, but as it was, his and Shiro's lives were on the line and he didn't want to make the wrong move.

Plastering a smug, sneering grin to his face, Shinji spoke to the intruder. "Yer not very bright, are ya?" he asked quietly, although the question was indeed rhetorical.

"Shut the fuck up, crab-ass pussy!" was viciously snapped by a deep voice only two feet behind him.

"Relax," added another deep, but calmer voice.

Shinji stared down at Shiro, who, by now, had realized the danger they were in and was staring up at him with wide inverted eyes. His entire expression screamed terror and uncertainty. Shinji wanted desperately to grab the .380 he kept tucked against his back in the waistband of his jeans, but knew that it would be suicidal. His and Grimmjow's beef with the rival gang, the Bloods, was coming to a head and Shinji cursed his luck, wondering why of all nights for the assholes to get froggy, they wanted to do it when he was about to go get laid.

"That you, Tousen?" Shinji inquired, recognizing the voice of one of the Blood's main enforcers.

A snort was heard before the second voice spoke again. "I'm flattered. Really. Now, how about being a good little lapdog and telling me where your friend is?"

Shinji scowled for the first time all evening, wanting nothing more than to flip this man the bird and tell him to go fuck his mother. Instead he settled for chuckling softly and shaking his head slightly. "Ya really think I'm gonna tell ya that?"

Shiro's eyes went to the man standing behind Shinji. "You don't think you should watch your mouth? I'm not the one being held at gunpoint, Shinji. You're at a terrible disadvantage right now, so I suggest you just tell me where your friend is," Tousen continued.

Anger frothed in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him and make him do something irrational. Trying his hardest to calm down, he counted backwards from ten under his breath and kept his eyes on Shiro, who was staring at him curiously, fear still shining in those golden irises. Finally feeling as though he could speak without snarling, he licked his lips and offered, "Yer gonna have ta kill me, then. I ain' tellin' ya shit, fuckin' slob."

Tousen tsked and Shinji could imagine the dark-skinned man shaking his head in disappointment. "That's too bad. I was truly hoping we could come to some sort of agreement."

"Fuck you," Shinji spat, pissed that Tousen was being so condescending.

If he hadn't been caught off guard, Tousen would be dead by now. As well as whoever his lackey was. _Fuck_. _Where the hell was Gri-_

The sound of a gun cocking had his breath hitching in his chest and stalling in his throat. He was afraid, but he wouldn't go out like some sniveling little punk, so he straightened his shoulders and closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

"I'ma count ta six and by two, ya better be gone," a familiar voice growled from Shinji's left, making his eyes snap open and the air that had been trapped inside of him, whoosh out in a rush. Adrenaline pumped through his system so fiercely, he felt like he was falling from a ledge.

"Took yer ass long enough," he grumbled, relief flooding him.

"One," Grimmjow said, voice deadly calm, but Shinji knew better.

Grimmjow was livid and Shinji just didn't have it in him to feel any kind of remorse for the idiots that had been foolish enough to put a gun to _his_ head.

XOXOXO

His heart was thumping slowly and strongly as he followed the tall, blue-haired man through the store. Ichigo was still reliving the brief moment of tenderness that Grimmjow had revealed only moments before, his deep, gravelly voice soft and sincere. Ichigo shuddered and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue plaid board shorts, his form-fitting, black polo shirt pulling tight across his chest with the movement.

His mind was a snarled tangle of plants in need of pruning after the whirlwind of events that had occurred in the past hour and he was in desperate need of some thought freedom. Grimmjow wound through the aisles, pausing at the refrigerated section and grabbing a couple bottles of spring water before shoving off towards the snack section.

Ichigo chuckled under his breath, but apparently he hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought because Grimmjow looked over his broad shoulder with a slight frown. "Wha's funny?" he asked, turning away without waiting for a response.

Ichigo ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Ya got the munchies," he said, stifling a snicker.

Grimmjow gave him a feral grin, sharpened canines fully displayed and making a brisk chill sweep down his spine. "Fuckin' A. Don' worry, I'll leave room for you."

Ichigo tried to hide the fiery blush threatening to cover his entire face and neck, but didn't really succeed. Grimmjow's eyes molested him for a few more seconds and then the taller man turned his attention to the assortment of snacks lining the store's shelves. After a minute or two of careful deliberation, Grimmjow sauntered off carrying a family-sized bag of ranch flavored Doritos and a pack of strawberry flavored Twizzlers that he immediately opened, peeling a string of the sweet licorice free and sticking it between his teeth.

Ichigo discreetly grabbed a bag of fun-sized Snickers, his mouth automatically watering as he thought of devouring his favorite treat; he went through chocolate the way cars went through gasoline. He didn't even notice Grimmjow giving him a smug smirk over his shoulder as he followed behind him to the check-out counter, such was his preoccupation with the candy in his grasp.

When they approached the counter, a short girl with bubblegum pink hair stared back at them, bright smile nearly blinding as she chewed noisily on a piece of gum. Grimmjow tossed his items onto the beige counter and pointed with his chin towards the display rack behind the girl. "Lemme get two packs a'milds and two boxes of Magnums."

Ichigo blushed like a high school girl.

_Magnums?_

He knew what those were and if Grimmjow was buying them, then that meant that his dick required extra space in a condom. _Not to mention_... _two boxes?_ Grimmjow gave him a cursory glance, a slow, shit-eating grin taking over his face. "Don' get shy now," he rumbled as the girl retrieved his condoms and cigars.

Ichigo puffed his chest and lifted his chin defiantly. "I ain't shy."

Grimmjow arched a brow before tipping his head back and letting loose a deep, thunderous laugh. "Hoh?" the blue-haired gang member fisted the collar of Ichigo's polo, dragging him closer and putting their noses millimeters apart. "Ya weren't sayin' that a second ago."

Ichigo froze, hooked by that soul-stealing gaze. He was speechless and helpless to do anything other than gape stupidly as Grimmjow coolly stared back at him.

"Heh," Grimmjow smirked as he released Ichigo's shirt and turned to pay for his things.

Ichigo straightened the collar of his shirt, his hands trembling at the overwhelming aura that Grimmjow emanated. He was simultaneously intimidated and attracted to the taller man and it confused him to no end. He wondered exactly when he had fallen down the rabbit hole because nothing was making sense anymore. Sure, it was one thing to admire the guy's looks from a distance, but he never thought he'd have an encounter of the fourth kind with Grimmjow.

Previously, Ichigo had only ever dealt with guys that he knew weren't on a fast track to prison or death, but Grimmjow was different and exciting. _It was amazingly refreshing_. The thrill of constant hovering danger aroused him and made him want more, something he was sure would never occur in his normal, boring, everyday routine.

Grimmjow grabbed the plastic bag containing his purchases and stuck another Twizzler between his Rembrandt commercial teeth. Ichigo hurriedly dropped a few bills on the counter for his chocolate before quickly following behind the blue-haired man already heading out the door. On the threshold of the sliding doors, Grimmjow abruptly stopped, causing Ichigo to crash into his brick wall of a back.

 _He had to stop doing that_.

Puzzled and frustrated, Ichigo tried to look around Grimmjow's solid figure that was currently stock-still and stiff as an erection. Grinning at his dirty thoughts, he opened his mouth to ask what the hold up was, when Grimmjow shoved his white, plastic bag at him, not even turning to look at him. "Hold this," he grunted, voice rough and dangerously calm.

In the next instant, he reached behind his back and pulled a Sig Sauer P226 from the waistband of his jeans and stalked out of the store. Ichigo watched in wide-eyed astonishment as Grimmjow stalked over to his Caprice and immediately pressed the barrel of the gun to the temple of a huge man with cornrows and a goatee. He wore an oversized, bright red tee, baggy, black jeans and a pair of red, white and black Jordans. The man's eyes widened as he peered from the corners at Grimmjow. Grimmjow merely cocked his gun and said something, his voice too low for Ichigo to hear from his spot by the store's doors.

Ichigo took in the scene with equal amounts of fear and anger. Fear because there were guns present and anger because the huge man had a gun pointed to the back of Shinji's head. Ichigo wasn't upset about the gun being held to Shinji's head, but because Shiro was trapped between Shinji and Ichigo's car and Ichigo was petrified that his twin was about to get caught in the crossfire of a violent confrontation.

Gripping the handles of the plastic bag Grimmjow had thrust into his arms, Ichigo took a few steps to the side, heart in his mouth and chest burning from the effort to breathe regularly and keep calm.

 _It wasn't working_.

There was another man standing off to the side of the man holding the gun to Shinji's head. He was wearing a form-fitting, white t-shirt, dark-blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankles and bright red and white, high-top Converse sneakers. A red bandana was wrapped around his right wrist and another hung from his right back pocket. His hair was jet black and long, cascading over his broad shoulders and ending somewhere in the middle of his back and his demeanor was way too cool for the unfolding predicament.

Ichigo swallowed nervously as he locked eyes with his frightened twin standing between Shinji and the gray Caprice. Shiro rarely showed it if he was afraid of anything, but in this instance, Ichigo could certainly understand the trepidation in that golden glance. Guns and unstable gang members were usually cause for massive amounts of fear to anyone in their right mind, who happened to be in the immediate vicinity of said guns and gangsters.

One look at his surroundings and Ichigo was able to deduce that no one was really paying him any attention. Grimmjow's focus was obviously the man holding a nine millimeter to the back of Shinji's head, Shinji's eyes were trained on Shiro and the man under threat by Grimmjow was frozen in place, afraid to move and eyes darting between the blue-haired thug and the dark-haired man on his right. The dark-haired man was staring a hole through Grimmjow, his face calm, but the vein throbbing at his temple giving away his anger.

 _No one really acknowledged him except Shiro_.

Ichigo began slowly edging his way towards Grimmjow's car, trying not to draw any attention to his actions. _He didn't know what the fuck he planned to do, but getting out of the line of fire seemed like a really good idea_. His sneakers made no noise as he slid his feet and crept over to the side of the blue Acura, his breath suspended in his chest and the back of his throat as he kept his eyes locked on the dark-haired man, the only one that would pose a problem for him, considering the situation. Once he reached the side of the vehicle, he slowly ducked down below the window of the driver's side and peered over the edge. The scene was still the same, except Grimmjow had just grunted "two"; that much had been clear from Ichigo's position. He left Grimmjow's and his bags near the door and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

Knowing that if Grimmjow reached a certain number, he would most certainly shoot, Ichigo decided to defuse the bomb waiting to explode in his face... _or at least try to throw it someone before it did_. He slithered to the rear of the car and peeked around the bumper, his heart in his mouth and his entire body trembling.

 _His high had officially been ruined_.

Ichigo licked his lips and glanced back and forth between Grimmjow and the dark-haired man giving excellent glare. The dark-haired man's coal-colored eyes twinkled with malice as he stared Grimmjow down, probably thinking the most evil of things. Ichigo noticed that since the man's attention was so riveted to the blue-haired man holding his friend hostage, he was basically off the guy's radar. The man stood about two feet from where Ichigo crouched behind the car and would be easy to subdue, if Ichigo could only reach him before he went for the ominous-looking gun he was keeping in the back of his jeans.

Biting his bottom lip and taking a slow, deep breath through his nose, he decided to go for it. Before anyone could bat an eyelash, he was on the balls of his feet and planted behind the taller, dark-haired man as he linked his arms through the other man's and held them up at an awkward angle, making it impossible for the man to move.

"King!" Shiro shouted from his spot in front of Shinji.

Grimmjow's eyes widened briefly, but he sprang into action. "Duck!" he yelled, making Shinji drop into a crouch, pulling Shiro along with him.

Shinji had just moved up in Ichigo's OK-with-me book.

Grimmjow gun-butted the huge man on the temple, making him fold like a bad hand in Poker; he tipped over and hit the ground with enough force to rock a boat, the gun that had been against the back of Shinji's head, skittering away under Ichigo's car. _The dark-haired man was no push-over, that was for sure_. He was strong and starting to resist, Ichigo's grip slowly loosening on the man's thicker arms.

Ichigo doubled over in pain when the dark-haired man brought a foot behind him and accurately kicked him in his stomach. He coughed, trying to fight the urge to vomit as bright white flooded his vision; he faintly heard the sound of Shiro screaming his name, but his gut was burning like a house aflame. Ichigo was pretty sure he was about to die since he'd let the dark-haired man go during the kick, but was surprised when all he heard was a sickening thud...that had nothing to do with him.

Blinking through the tears gathered in his eyes, he focused on the sight of Grimmjow standing over the dark-haired man, who was now on the ground on his side, holding his own stomach, his dark hair spilling over the blacktop, the gun that had been concealed in his jeans gone. Grimmjow tucked his gun away and bore down on the side of the man's face with the bottom of his foot as he leaned over him.

"Ya tell that sorry ass boss a'yers ta come see me himself. He got a beef wit' me, he should handle it like a man, not send his little slob bitches ta do the job," he rumbled quietly, his face calm, but atmospheric blue eyes glinting like diamonds in the sun. "An' another thing," here he pressed down even harder on the man's face, making him groan in pain. "Don' fuckin' touch mah shit."

Ichigo frowned at that, confused.

_What the hell was Grimmjow calling "mah shit"?_

Grimmjow removed his foot from the man's face, but brought it back swiftly and sharply kicked the dark-haired man in the jaw, the sound clearly relaying that the bone had broken on impact. The dark-haired man howled and rolled onto his other side, hands going for his face. Ichigo's eyes were wide, but he still couldn't move from his spot. He watched, enthralled, as Grimmjow slowly ambled over to him and stooped beside him, blue eyes calm and quiet now, no sign of the storm that had been there just moments before. He held his hand out. "Ya good?" he grunted.

Ichigo swallowed thickly and nodded shortly. His stomach was still on fire and his head had begun pounding like his pulse, but other than that, all was fine. He was mostly relieved that his brother was fine and out of harm's way. Speaking of his brother, Ichigo's eyes went in search for him and settled just in time to see Shiro scrambling to his feet from underneath Shinji. His twin tried to make his way over, but Shinji grabbed his leg and held him in place, a look of pure astonishment slackening his features and leaving his jaw hanging as he stared at Grimmjow.

Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow, now completely baffled, and almost yelped when a strong arm slid around his waist and slowly hefted him to his feet. The pain was still there, but not nearly as bad as it had been at first. His legs were weak and shaking, but he managed to stay standing as he scanned Grimmjow's face quizzically.

"C'n ya walk?" Grimmjow grunted again.

Ichigo licked his lips, his heart seizing when Grimmjow hungrily tracked the movement. Nodding, he said, "I can."

Grimmjow stared at him for a few seconds longer and as if just realizing he still had his arm around Ichigo's waist, he snatched it away and started for his car. "Tch. Hurry up, then."

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck as Shiro hurried over to him, having finally been let go by Shinji. "King, ya OK?" Ichigo nodded and brushed his twin's hands away; Shiro straightened his back and huffed. "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YA THINKIN', HUH? WHAT AM I GONNA SAY TA THE OLD MAN IF YOU GO AND GET YERSELF KILLED?" the albino hollered.

Ichigo winced at the volume and turned to snarl at his brother, but paused at the look of concern and residual fear stuck in his inverted eyes. Sighing, Ichigo wrapped an arm around Shiro's shoulders and leaned against him for support. "Sorry, Shiro. I didn' mean to scare ya," he mumbled.

"Tch. Stupid King," Shiro muttered as he assisted Ichigo to the gray Caprice.

After Ichigo was folded into his car, Shiro assumed his temporary spot behind the wheel and peeled out behind the blue Acura skidding out of the parking lot. Ichigo couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened, but mostly about the confusing bits after everything died down.

_For example, what the hell had Grimmjow been calling "mah shit"? And what had made Shinji look at his own best friend that way?_

Ichigo leaned back against the leather of his seat and shook his head slightly, trying to clear it of the puzzlement running through it.

 _He'd figure it out sooner or later_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo's heart pounded furiously as he leaned against the butter-soft, leather car seat and avidly watched Shiro driving his baby like it was a getaway vehicle. Not only was he afraid for the life of his car, but the longer they drove, following behind Grimmjow and Shinji, the more nervous he became. Was it absolutely necessary for them to tear through the streets like they were drag racing?

Ichigo definitely didn't think so.

His mind kept drifting to their destination, which, if he remembered correctly, was supposed to be a hotel. Which one, he didn't know. Ichigo gingerly touched his abdomen, wincing at the still present tenderness he felt. _That dark-haired man had certainly done a number on him_ , he thought, with an involuntary shudder. He glanced at the speeding, royal blue Acura a few car lengths in front of them before sticking his eyes to the side of Shiro's head again.

"Oi. Ya wanna slow the fuck down?" he grumbled, his lips turning down into a petulant pout.

Shiro shot him a cursory glance before returning his attention to the car in front of them, his pale left hand gripping the steering wheel, while the right clutched the gear shift. Both hands were white-knuckled, which was an incredible accomplishment for the albino. Ichigo deduced that his twin was also very nervous, but too proud to admit it. "If I slow down, King, we'll lose 'em," Shiro carefully explained, eyes on the road, but voice bordering on annoyed.

Eyes back on the careening Acura, Ichigo stifled a gasp and clutched the middle console and passenger door handle when the royal blue vehicle made a sudden sharp right into the parking lot of the most upscale hotel in the city. Shiro managed to slow down, but only just, as he made the same turn, the Chevy almost coasting on two wheels, and followed the Acura into a parking space. Angry drivers behind them leaned on their horns indignantly. Ichigo's heart was trembling and adrenaline rushed through him like a tidal wave. Sweat gathered across his brow and upper lip and dampened his armpits as his limbs shook almost uncontrollably. He didn't settle down until the car had come to a complete stop and Shiro shut off the engine. Even then, his heart was having a hard time slowing its frantic pace.

Ichigo glanced over at his brother, a snarl curling his upper lip at the thought of the disaster that could have occurred due to the reckless driving between Shiro and Grimmjow. Ichigo decided that once his stomach calmed down enough to where he felt he wouldn't bring up everything he'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours, he would have a few choice words with the gorgeous, but stupid blue-haired gang member. Shiro turned a bright smile in Ichigo's direction, his golden irises gleaming with amusement and enjoyment.

"Ya gotta admit that was pretty fun, King," he said, excitement lacing his watery tenor.

Ichigo inwardly counted backwards from ten as he shut his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingertips. He definitely had to calm down because at the moment, he wanted to strangle and kill his own fucking brother. "Shiro, if somethin' woulda happened to my car-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Ya woulda castrated me and beat me ta death with my own dick. Ya always say that, but have I ruined yer shit yet?"

"That's not the fuckin' point here!"

"King, ya really oughta relax. Good thing yer gettin' laid tanight. I hope it makes ya fuckin' loosen up since ya've been a bit of a tight-ass lately."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes and sent his twin the most intimidating death glare he could muster. Shiro merely snorted before barking a short laugh. Ichigo opened his mouth to reply, a scathing remark dangling from the tip of his tongue, when a quick rap on his window made him jump hard enough to bite his bottom lip. He turned in annoyance towards the interruption, ready to give the intruder a sound verbal lashing, but the words died pitifully in his throat.

Grimmjow stood bent over the window, his large hands braced along the top of the frame. Ichigo hesitantly cracked open the door, giving the tall man time enough to back away before he swung it open completely. Too intimidated to leave the car, he sat and waited for Grimmjow to speak. Almond shaped eyes the color of tropical island water latched onto Ichigo's and momentarily stole his breath.

"Ya left yer bag by mah car," he grunted.

Ichigo frowned, confused, until he noticed the white, plastic bag hanging from Grimmjow's left hand. Through the translucent material, he was able to see the brown plastic containing his chocolate obsession.

 _He'd completely forgotten about his Snickers_.

He didn't pay attention to the shy grin that stretched his lips as he reached for the bag, but before he could grasp it, Grimmjow held it out of reach, a huge, wolfish smirk narrowing his intense blue eyes and wrinkling the bridge of his nose.

"Ya want it? Gotta come get it."

Despite the fact that Grimmjow communicated like a cave man, his deep, rumbling baritone sent shivers racing down Ichigo's spine. _That voice promised all kinds of sins of the carnal nature_. Ichigo made the foolish mistake of locking eyes with the blue-haired man, his chest tightening as he lost the ability to breathe again, never mind speak.

Luckily, Shiro used that time to insert himself into the conversation. "We're goin' in _there_?" he asked incredulously.

Grimmjow flicked Shiro a cursory glance of acknowledgment before focusing exclusively on Ichigo again. "Yeah," he muttered.

Ichigo swallowed forcefully as he helplessly stared at Grimmjow. The man was insanely attractive, those nearly ethereal features severely misleading and hiding his true, demonic personality. Ichigo couldn't help but run his greedy gaze over the tall man's broad shoulders, his clearly well-defined and chiseled torso – even though it was hidden beneath his striped Henley shirt – and his trim waist that tapered into ridiculously long and muscular legs. Grimmjow was so far beyond sexy, it was fucking scary.

 _No one person should contain that much sex appeal_. _Made him wanna do the dirtiest things to the blue-haired man_.

"See, that's why ya need ta get yer ass outta the car and come inside wit' me," Grimmjow stated as if he'd been reading Ichigo's thoughts.

Eyes the size of saucers, Ichigo ran the back of his hand across his mouth as he contemplated how to respond to the blue-haired gangster's nonchalant comment. Before he could, an image of Grimmjow's swerving Acura flooded his vision and reminded Ichigo of his previous anger. Surging from the seat of his Chevy, he pressed the end of a long finger into Grimmjow's chest, making the man arch a fine, blue brow curiously before glancing down at the offending digit digging into the valley between his pectorals.

"Oi! What the hell is with your driving? Did ya forget we were behind you or somethin'? Shiro almost had an accident and if somethin' woulda happened to my car-"

Grimmjow stepped into Ichigo's space and put his face mere millimeters from Ichigo's. An ominous smirk was all the warning Ichigo received before his back was suddenly flush against the side of his car, Grimmjow's big, strong hand fisting his shirt collar. "I like 'em feisty, but don' yell at me, Ichigo. Pisses me off. Ya don' wanna piss me off, do ya?"

Ichigo shook his head, his eyes nearly falling out of his head, they were so wide. "No," he whispered, mouth suddenly dry as cotton.

"Good." When Grimmjow abruptly released his collar, Ichigo still didn't move for fear of setting the temperamental man off again. Instead, he visibly swallowed and watched as Grimmjow removed himself from Ichigo's immediate vicinity, his piercing, cold blue eyes shifting to over Ichigo's head. Shinji's voice gave Ichigo a good idea of what – or rather whom – Grimmjow was looking. "Shin, ya talked ta Ishida already?" Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo wanted to crane his neck, or at least peek over his shoulder at the blond man Grimmjow was addressing, but for some reason, he felt utterly stuck, frozen in place by some unseen force. The sound of a car door slamming jerked Ichigo out of his mental slump.

"Yeah, he's at the front desk," Shinji replied, his voice coming from the other side of Ichigo's car, which would explain the noise of a car door.

Ichigo finally found the strength to look over his shoulder and see his brother standing beside Shinji, the two men wearing twin, see-all-my-teeth grins. It was creepy, but somehow reassuring at the same time. Shinji had just slid a black cell phone into his pocket when Ichigo felt an iron band wrap around his upper arm. Whipping around to face the strong grip, he realized that the band wasn't an iron band after all; it was Grimmjow's hand. Ichigo wanted to whimper at the implications of that inhumanly powerful hold. He decided at that moment, that he would never, for as long as he lived, land on Grimmjow's bad side.

 _He wouldn't live to survive the encounter and, truthfully, he was starting to doubt he would survive this one_.

Shiro locked up the Chevy and they all headed for the entrance of the _Ishida Inn_ , the most impressive, not to mention luxurious hotel in the city. The entire trip from the parking lot to the smooth, cobblestone walkway that led inside of the humongous building, Ichigo wondered just how the fuck they were supposed to be able to afford a room (never mind two) in the place. The building stood well over twenty stories and was made up of mostly glass and steel. A midnight-blue entrance canopy advertised _Ishida Inn_ in large, white script, while a black, outdoor carpet led the way to the two, huge, wooden double doors. Ichigo felt completely out of place at the posh establishment, his hands twitching every few seconds the closer they got to the entrance.

Grimmjow decided to have mercy on him and ease up on the cast-iron constraint to his upper arm, but it did nothing to help his discomfort. Finally, they trooped through the double doors and into the cavernous lobby, where the midnight-blue and white theme continued, from the midnight-blue carpeting on the floor, to the off-white of the walls and couches scattered around. There was a section of wall towards the lounge area on the left that was made up of various shades of blue tile and in front of that rested a black, polished stone basin, where running water cascaded over the tiles and into the basin. The lighting managed to hit the fountain just right and make the colors swirl and thrill any onlookers with its brilliance. Off-white, soft-leather couches and love seats decorated the rest of the lounge area, while off to the right were the elevators and even further to the right was a restaurant, properly named _The Majestic_. Another midnight-blue and white entrance canopy advertised the name and Ichigo could smell the tempting scents of herbs, spices and sauces that emanated from the ridiculously expensive restaurant.

Men and women dressed in nothing but the finest Italian suits and dresses, glided through the place like the sun rose and fell on them, their noses turned up at the grossly under-dressed group making its way to the front desk. The place looked so expensive, Ichigo was afraid the management would make them pay just to talk to the receptionist. He turned a derisive glare to the tall, blue-haired man confidently striding beside him. Shinji adopted a similar demeanor, both men so nonchalant, the world could scratch their asses and they still probably wouldn't give a shit.

Ichigo swallowed forcefully once they reached the front desk, but Shinji leaned against the long, black marble counter and grinned charmingly at the tall, raven-haired man standing on the other side. The man wore a pair of black, rectangular-framed glasses that slightly obscured his dark blue eyes and his inky hair was so black, it was almost blue, framing the sides of his narrow face. His mouth was stretched into a thin line and he seemed to look down his straight nose at the smirking blond. Straightening the collar of a midnight-blue, dress shirt, then straightening the knot of a silver tie, the man's eyes flitted over Grimmjow before resting on Shinji again.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice deep and serious.

Shinji nodded, grin still splitting his face in half. "Yeah, I called ya a few minutes ago."

"The PS?"

"Yeah."

"For four?"

"...Duh, Ishida..." Shinji deadpanned.

The dark-haired man gave Shinji a quick glare before punching a few keys on the computer in front of him. "Shut up and wait here," he snapped.

Ichigo watched in utter confusion as the man went to a long, black desk along the wall behind the counter and opened a drawer with a regular, metal key, where he extracted a card key. The card key was silver and had the letters PS on it. Underneath those letters was the word Platinum, engraved in an elegant script. Ichigo followed the raven-haired man's actions as he closed and locked the drawer before coming to stand in front of the computer again. He tapped a few more keys before sliding the silver key card into a tiny, white envelope that looked like it was specifically made for a card of that size. He handed the envelope to Shinji and gave him a stern look when the blond made to grab it.

"Fifteen minutes," he said.

Shinji nodded and just like that, he and Grimmjow were making their way towards the elevators, the other guests of the hotel still eyeing them with disdain. Ichigo only managed to remain silent during the walk to the elevator because he was light years beyond astonished and quite frankly, he had no idea how to approach the topic on the table. Shinji was wearing a grin the size of Canada as they stepped into the lavish, metal pulley. An operator with shoulder-length, dark hair stood against the back wall, wearing a midnight-blue and white concierge uniform. He stepped forward and beckoned the four of them inside and that's when Ichigo locked gazes with his brother. Shiro's inverted eyes were the size of balled up fists as he followed behind Shinji.

Apparently, Ichigo wasn't the only one feeling like a gorilla in a three piece suit.

Still, they said nothing as the operator pressed a button to close the doors, then turned to Shinji and asked, "What floor, please?"

Shinji grinned and rocked back on his heels. "PS."

_What the fuck?_

Obviously, that meant something to the sleepy-eyed operator, though, because those eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Ar-are you sure, sir?" he stuttered, eyes darting between Shinji and Grimmjow.

"Tch. Ya heard what he said, yeah?" Grimmjow interjected, deep voice vibrating the lush interior of the elevator.

The operator paled and nodded, turning to the console and producing a small, gold key from his pocket. He stuck it into a slot beside the letters PS and pressed the button beside it, making it light up and also making the elevator begin its ascent. Ichigo caught his twin's gaze again and they both shrugged, both eternally puzzled, but Ichigo couldn't help but admit that he was a bit excited. There was something about these two gang members that brought about the feeling of the unknown and it absolutely thrilled him to no end. When the elevator finally came to a stop, Ichigo glanced at the display over the doors and had to stifle the urge to gasp and/or choke. They were at the very top, the highest floor, which anyone with a brain could tell was the penthouse suite, which had to be what the letters PS stood for.

Ichigo whipped his head around and stared at Grimmjow, who had his eyes on the floor and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, his plastic bag of sinful paraphernalia and snacks, dangling from his right wrist, while his navy blue fitted cap was pulled down low over his brow. Shinji was focused on exiting the elevator and Shiro was determined to keep up with his blond companion. Grimmjow lagged behind and Ichigo was the last to leave the metal contraption, worrying his bottom lip as he tried to figure out how the fuck Grimmjow and Shinji could afford such an extravagant hotel room in the most extravagant hotel in the city. He knew they were both involved in very illegal things, but he didn't know just how much so.

_Were they dope-boys? Stick-up kids?_

_He just didn't know_.

Before he could internally debate the issue any further, an arm was draped around his shoulders and, startled, he looked up into the royal blue eyes of his own personal Adonis.

 _For the time being anyway_.

Grimmjow gave him a small, sideways smirk, a Twizzler hanging from his bottom lip. "Don' think about it, yeah?" Ichigo felt his eyes nearly roll out of his head at the statement. How the hell had Grimmjow known what he was thinking about? "S'kinda written all over yer face," the taller man continued, his deep voice rumbling like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

Ichigo swallowed nervously, trying to hide how much Grimmjow's insight unsettled him. "Eh-heh," he chuckled, his own voice strained.

Grimmjow tightened his hold and pulled Ichigo closer, his strawberry scented breath fluttering against Ichigo's temple. "I c'n make ya ferget," he murmured, making the hairs all over Ichigo's body lift in anticipation and excitement, not to mention, arousal.

"Do it later," Shinji interrupted, voice tinged with a large amount of amusement that made Ichigo blush furiously.

Grimmjow chuckled low in his chest, the vibrations shuddering through the side of Ichigo's torso. Shit. Ichigo couldn't think straight with so much hot, gorgeous male standing beside him, doing his damnedest to seduce him.

"Fuck outta here, Mr. I-got-caught-with-mah-dick-in-mah-hand," Grimmjow drawled.

Shinji scowled. "Fuck you," he snapped before withdrawing the silver key card from its white envelope and sliding it into the slot beside a large, gun-metal gray door at the end of the hall.

The light blinked green and Shinji turned the handle, the door gliding open easily and sending a gust of immaculate-smelling air at them. They all entered the room, Grimmjow closing the door behind them. Ichigo stood in the foyer and gaped, knowing for a fact that his eyes were threatening to pop out of his skull at any moment. The room was absolutely breathtaking. Every inch of it was covered in the starkest of whites. The carpet, the furniture, the walls, everything was a pristine white. He kicked off his sneakers, not wanting to ruin the impeccable décor as he continued to take in his surroundings. The foyer had a polished silver chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the lights glowing softly. It led to a set of three steps that steered into the sitting room, which consisted of a long, white, soft-leather couch and matching love seat and a low to the floor, long, glass and metal coffee table. Behind the couch were floor to ceiling windows that made up the corner of the room and looked down onto the city below, lights from passing cars and other buildings creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Ichigo wanted to press his nose to the windows and "ooo" and "ahhh" like a child in a toy store.

To the right of the windows were a pair of large, white, French patio doors that led to a terrace, housing a huge jacuzzi that could easily fit fifteen people. The terrace was fenced with a dark, swirl patterned railing. Further to the right of the balcony, but back inside the room, was a full bar, lit up like a Christmas tree and stocked to the T with the finest alcohol and champagne a person could imagine. Dom Perignon, Moet, Roberto Cavalli vodka, Johnnie Walker scotch, Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac and so much more. There were martini glasses and snifters and shot-glasses of all shapes and sizes and Ichigo feared just looking at them would break them. Shuddering, he sent his gaze in the direction of two sets of white, double doors, both containing silver trim and elaborate, silver handles. Ichigo figured those must be the bedrooms.

In short, the room was all kinds of awesome and he was deathly afraid that any move he made would cause major damage to the sheer exquisite status of the entire suite. He spared a glance at his brother and would have laughed heartily if only his expression didn't match the albino's. Shiro was still as a museum statue, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The opulence of the place was indeed shocking. Ichigo watched as Shinji and Grimmjow rid themselves of their footwear and headed for the bar, sliding onto polished, silver, high-backed stools. Ichigo didn't know whether to follow them or continue standing by the front door, but when Shiro gave his head a small shake and trailed after the blond gangster, Ichigo decided to join the other men at the spectacular bar as well.

Taking a seat beside the blue-haired man, Ichigo avidly watched as Grimmjow pulled a small Zip-lock bag and wrapped Swisher from his front pocket and meticulously rolled up another blunt. Ichigo shifted on the stool he'd occupied and stifled the sudden, strong urge to lean over and sniff the contents of that Zip-lock bag. He'd always loved the smell of Purple and Grimmjow seemed to have the stuff growing in his pants the way he produced bag after bag of the sticky green. After Grimmjow rolled up, he dug through his plastic bag and retrieved one of the two boxes of Black and Milds that he'd purchased at the convenience store. He pulled one of the plastic-wrapped and beige, plastic, filter-tipped cigars from the box. He proceeded to "freak" or "champ" it, meaning, he bit off the plastic wrapping at the tip, rolled the cigar between his palms a few times to loosen the tobacco inside, then rolled it between his thumb and index finger, emptying the tobacco into the plastic wrap. Once all the tobacco was in the plastic, including the bit that was normally stuck in the filter tip, he pulled the cigar casing from it and rolled it between his fingers again, this time making sure the tan paper lining inside the darker brown cigar casing was loose enough to be tugged free. Most people considered the tan lining to be what caused cancer, but the truth was, the tan lining was designed to make the cigar burn slower. By removing it, it burned faster, like a cigarette. Grimmjow removed the lining and refilled the casing with the emptied tobacco, tapping the tip on the bar counter top to pack it more tightly. There was nothing worse than a loosely packed Black and Mild; made it feel like you were smoking air. Grimmjow took his time and did the same with the other four cigars that came in the box, while Shinji jumped behind the bar and poured himself and Shiro glasses of Remy Martin Louis XIII.

"Ya want somethin', Orange?" Shinji asked, honey gold eyes directed at Ichigo.

Shiro snickered into his glass as Ichigo scowled at the blond. "Nah, I'm good. I smoke."

"Mah kinda guy," Grimmjow grunted, eyes never leaving his task and a beige filter tip clasped between his perfect teeth. Ichigo blushed, trying not to show just how much Grimmjow's statement had affected him. He liked the idea of being Grimmjow's "kinda guy", no matter how figuratively it may have been meant. Shinji shrugged and grabbed Grimmjow's bottles of water, making blue eyes snap in his direction, the depths colder than the arctic. "Fuck ya doin'?"

"I'm puttin' the shit in the fridge back here. Less ya want em ta get hot, be mah guest."

"Oh."

Grimmjow went back to his cigars and Shinji diligently placed the bottles of water into the silver, Sub-Zero, mini-fridge behind the bar. It was blatantly obvious that the two men were best friends and knew each other like the lyrics to their favorite song. There was a brief silence before Ichigo heard the unmistakable sound of wet kissing. Face burning, he turned to his left to see Shinji leaning over the counter, trying to swallow his brother's face. Shiro had his hand fisted in Shinji's collar and Ichigo found the sight incredibly hot for some reason. The kiss was getting more and more heated and when Shiro moaned softly, Ichigo had to turn away from the arousing scene. He wanted to watch, but he felt like he was violating his brother's privacy by doing so, so he absently directed his gaze to Grimmjow.

He'd only meant to watch the man preparing his cigars, but ended up looking at him wistfully, wondering what it would be like to kiss those full lips. Grimmjow wore a deep frown, but his eyes never left what he was doing. Ichigo sighed quietly, but apparently not quietly enough because Grimmjow looked over at him and must have noticed the longing in his eyes, if the following snort was any indication. It was Ichigo's turn to frown.

_What the hell was Grimmjow snorting about?_

Grimmjow turned back to his cigars, but every few seconds peered at Ichigo from the corner of his endlessly blue eyes. Ichigo kept being distracted by the noisy kissing coming from his left, so he abruptly stood and ambled over to the windows, where he looked down on the city, admiring the stunning view. He didn't understand why Grimmjow had seemed so stand-offish a minute ago, but he was hoping it was just a passing thing. He really didn't want this night to end awkwardly, even though he and his brother had both come there with only one thing on their minds.

 _Fucking_.

There would be no making love or simply having sex here. From the way Grimmjow had growled at him and overwhelmed him with testosterone and danger, Ichigo knew he was in for something a lot rougher than what he was accustomed to and he was pretty sure the same went for his twin. He didn't mind one bit, though. As long as it was the blue-haired heathen reaching places Ichigo didn't even know existed in his own body, he was perfectly fine with it. He wanted to be handled like a true uke, not that he was a simpering one, or helpless in the slightest, but he wanted to be controlled and made to do things he normally wouldn't and Grimmjow looked like just the man for the job. No one would understand Ichigo's desire to be thoroughly dominated, so he usually kept thoughts of that nature to himself, but he was sure Grimmjow would unleash a whole host of shameless abandon on his part and he was so anxious to experience it.

The sudden, stimulating scent of Purple seemed to wrap him in a cocoon, but before he could turn to see if he could smoke with Grimmjow, the man was right behind him, his body heat reaching out and caressing Ichigo's entire back.

"Wan' some?" that sinfully provocative voice stroked his ear, making him bite his bottom lip and stifle a moan.

 _He wanted some alright_.

Ichigo twisted his torso just enough to glance over his shoulder and meet the taller man's gaze. Grimmjow's eyes were the things of dreams and nightmares. They could be hotter than a furnace one minute and colder than ice the next. Ichigo could get lost in them forever and never complain about finding a way back to reality. Nodding, he took the blunt Grimmjow offered him and inhaled shortly. He didn't want to overdo it and end up making a spectacle of himself by trying to hack up a lung in front of the tall man. Ichigo exhaled through his nostrils and closed his eyes, fuzziness already creeping around the edges of his mind.

_All I care about is money and the city that I'm from  
I'ma sip until I feel it, I'ma smoke it till it's done  
And I don't really give a fuck, and my excuse is that I'm young  
And I'm only getting older so somebody shoulda told ya_

_I'm on one_   
_Yeah, fuck it, I'm on one_   
_Yeah, I said I'm on one_   
_Fuck it, I'm on one_

Ichigo jumped when music filtered loudly through unseen speakers, bass massaging the bottoms of his feet and making his body tingle. He loved the song, though, so he rocked back on his heels and took another pull of the Purple, this one longer and deeper. Amazingly, he didn't cough. Maybe because he'd already been smoking, but whatever the reason, he was extremely grateful. His head began unconsciously nodding to the slow, relaxing beat and quickly lost himself to the music and lyrics.

_I walk around the club, fuck everybody  
And all my ni**as got that Heat I feel like Pat Riley  
Yeah, too much money, ain't enough money  
You know the feds listening, ni**a what money?  
I'm a made ni**a  
I should dust something  
You ni**as on the bench  
Like the bus coming  
Huh, ain't nothing sweet but the swishas  
I'm focused might as well say cheese for the pictures  
Ohhh, I'm about to go Andre the Giant  
You a sell out, but I ain't buying  
Chopper dissect a ni**a like science  
Put an end to the world like the Mayans  
This a celebration bitches, Mazel Tov  
It's a slim chance I fall, olive oil  
Tunechi be the name, don't ask me how I got it  
I'm killin' these hoes I swear I'm tryna stop the violence_

A large hand rested on Ichigo's hip, pulling him back against a broad, firm chest and aligning him with taut, muscular thighs. Ichigo inhaled sharply, passing the blunt back to Grimmjow, who took it and did his own inhaling. The soft rasping of burning paper, followed by an airy breath floating across the nape of his neck made Ichigo sigh noisily and lean further back against Grimmjow's solid form. A haze settled around him, his head feeling light and his eyelids heavy. His mouth was dry as a bleached bone and Ichigo suddenly had an acute case of the giggles.

Grimmjow pressed those enticing lips to the back of Ichigo's neck, the bill of his cap nudging Ichigo's cheek, and the giggles immediately disappeared, although his body resorted to slight twitches. A gentle pulling and tugging began in the pit of his stomach as Grimmjow trailed his hot tongue along the side of his neck, leaving Ichigo with no other option but to roll his head back and enjoy the sensation overpowering him. His toes curled and his lower region skipped stages in humongous leaps and bounds, going from soft to hard in .03 seconds.

 _It was positively ridiculous, but he blamed the THC flowing through his system_.

Grimmjow's big hand found its way under the hem of Ichigo's polo and slowly worked tiny circles into the skin right above the edge of his shorts. At the same time, the taller man leaned forward and nipped the shell of his ear, breath scorching him and leaving him almost panting with need.

 _Kami, he wanted to drop his drawers right then and there and let Grimmjow rule him like a monarchy_.

Grimmjow somehow passed the Purple back to him and as he took another deep pull, Grimmjow bit down on the junction of his neck where the column met his shoulder. Ichigo had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Instead, he tilted his head to the side even more and moaned softly. That only served to spur the blue-haired man on as he alternated between sucking strongly and licking the spot he had bitten only seconds before.

"Fuck," Ichigo whispered.

"Hn," Grimmjow grunted, thrusting his hips forward, proving just how aroused he was.

The sheer hardness Ichigo felt poking him from behind made him want to melt into the floor in a wanton pile of quivering desire. _This was what he wanted_. _No, fuck that_. _This was what he_ needed. Grimmjow was so aggressive and Ichigo was already addicted to the mere _idea_ of being commanded.

A loud, melodic chiming broke the spell Grimmjow had put Ichigo deeply under, making both men turn their heads in the direction of the front door. Ichigo was trying to form some type of moisture in his mouth, while simultaneously trying to calm his frantically racing heart. Grimmjow still had a hand around his waist, but was facing the door, scowl creasing his beautiful brow. Ichigo glanced over at Shinji, who had relocated to the other side of the bar and was currently holding Shiro in his lap, his hands possessively gripping the pale man's waist. Somehow, Shinji had commandeered Shiro's seat, but Shiro didn't seem to mind one tiny iota. Both men were staring at the door as well, brows furrowed in annoyance. Ichigo wanted to pump his fist at their expressions and shout "hear, hear!" and he had a bad feeling that whoever was on the other side of that door was about to be chewed up and unceremoniously spit out, if the low, menacing growling Grimmjow was producing from his chest meant anything.

The chime went off again and Grimmjow released his grip on Ichigo's waist, making him involuntarily whimper at the absence of that warm, strong hand. Grimmjow glanced back at him, blue brow arched and sideways smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. "Don' worry. We got all night," he muttered before stalking off to the door.

Ichigo raised a shaking hand to his chest and blew out a deep breath. He slid over to the glass, end table beside the long couch and shakily put out the blunt he still held between his fingers. The thing was half the size of his pinky and rested easily against the inside of the large, glass ashtray. When he straightened his back, he realized just how quickly his heart was racing and no matter how much he wanted to base the action solely on the Purple he'd just consumed, he had to admit that a lot of it had to do with the tall, blue-haired gangster striding to the door with a fierce scowl marring his brow. When Grimmjow reached the large, gray door, he threw it open and glared at whoever was on the other side, his deep voice barking, "What?"

Ichigo sidled from behind the couch to get a closer look at the person interrupting everyone's moment, only to see a familiar face sneering back at Grimmjow. It was the raven-haired man from the front desk, Ishida, only now, Ishida looked completely different. Gone were the black, rectangular frames he'd been sporting down in the lobby and gone was the business casual attire. In place of the professional look was one that Ichigo would have paid cold, hard cash in a bet to prove that Ishida didn't go within fifty meters of. The outfit was, by all means, nothing spectacular, but just seeing it on the stoic, dark-haired man was enough to throw anyone for a loop.

Ishida had on a navy-blue, short-sleeved, v-neck tee, stonewashed-blue, skinny jeans that hung low enough on his hips to reveal the waistband of a pair of dark-blue boxer briefs, and navy-blue, low-top Converse sneakers. A navy-blue bandana hung from his left, back pocket and his arms were tattoo sleeved. Ichigo really couldn't help gaping. The sight was beyond baffling, but even though it was strange to see such an uptight man wearing urban clothing, Ichigo had to admit that the man looked good in it. His dark-blue eyes seemed to blend in with his t-shirt and sneakers and his tattoos stood out starkly on his pale skin.

There was someone standing beside Ishida, but Ichigo couldn't see past Grimmjow's broad shoulders enough to figure out who it was. "What the hell is your problem?" Ishida snapped, pushing past Grimmjow.

Ichigo's eyes nearly fell out of his head at the way Ishida was treating Grimmjow. _Did the man have no fear?_ At first, Ichigo was afraid that Grimmjow was going to detach the raven-haired man's head from his neck, but then the blue-haired man grinned wolfishly, stepping back from the door as he allowed Ishida's companion to pass the threshold. "Ya took so long, we fergot ya were comin'," Grimmjow said.

"I said fifteen minutes. It's been twenty."

"Whatever. Who's this?" Grimmjow asked, eyes on the tall, slender, pink-haired man that had followed Ishida into the room.

Grimmjow's tone implied massive suspicion and the way those cold, blue eyes traveled over the pink-haired man, made Ichigo shake his head in sympathy. It was very clear that Grimmjow trusted no one. Ishida gave a small, sardonic smirk and slunk back over to his friend, throwing a thin arm across the other man's equally thin shoulders. "This is Szayel. Szayel, this is everyone."

Szayel gave an infinitesimal smirk and waved, his mustard-colored eyes gleaming with intrigue as they flew around the room. They barely lighted on anyone before they were back on Grimmjow. Grimmjow eyed the man a few seconds more, then strolled away from the two, pulling his cap down over his brow. Ichigo figured that the action had to be a habit because the room was dim and he saw no reason for the man to keep adjusting his hat. Grimmjow flopped down onto the loveseat that was adjacent to the couch and Ichigo felt all the air in his lungs disappear without a trace as Grimmjow locked eyes with him and stretched his long legs out before him. The blue-haired miscreant lazily crooked a long finger and as if by some type of witchcraft, Ichigo was propelled towards him, body moving with a mind of its own. One foot after the other moved without Ichigo's permission and brought him directly in front of Grimmjow, who was grinning up at him, eyes cold and calculating enough to make him shiver.

"Well. Since everyone is busy..." Ishida started, but a snort from the bar cut him off.

"Why dontcha shut the fuck up and roll up yer joint like ya usually do," Shinji deadpanned.

Instead of the angry reply Ichigo had been expecting from Ishida, the dark-haired man merely grinned and reached into his back pocket. "I was just going to say that," he said, withdrawing a Zip-lock bag full of marijuana.

Ichigo would have continued eavesdropping, but Grimmjow reached out and pulled him down onto his lap by the belt-loops of his shorts. He fell onto firmly muscled thighs and barely held back a groan when Grimmjow's hands slipped under his shirt, gripping his waist after ghosting across his back. Ichigo arched his back shamelessly and bit back a moan. Grimmjow was leaning forward and nibbling the left side of his neck, big hands absolutely restless as they traveled over his back and in front to his chest and abdomen before finally settling on his hips.

By now, Ichigo was straddling his thighs, trying his hardest not to whimper at every fiery touch and every scorching breath that fluttered against his neck. His hands were bunched at Grimmjow's shoulders, twisting the material of the man's soft, cotton Henley shirt and his bottom lip was helplessly caught between his teeth as he rolled his head back, allowing Grimmjow better access to his neck. Ichigo was clearly on cloud one million and any miniscule thoughts of the other occupants of the lavish suite were overwhelmed by the delicious things that Grimmjow was subjecting him to.

Ichigo quickly lost himself to the new song that seeped through the hidden speakers throughout the room.

_Hands in the air, drinks in the air_

_Hands in the air, drinks in the air_

_Now let me see yo'_

_Hands in the air (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Drinks in the air (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Ballin' in here (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Let it fly, Let it fly (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Hands in the air, drinks in the air_

_Hands in the air, drinks in the air_

_Now let me see yo'_

_Hands in the air (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Drinks in the air (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Ballin' in here (le-le-le-let it fly)_

_Let it fly, Let it fly (le-le-le-let it fly)_

His head and body felt light as a q-tip, his nerves hypersensitive, making everything Grimmjow did that much more profound. "I-I can't, I can't feel my legs," Ichigo whimpered, not even realizing he'd spoken aloud.

Grimmjow paused briefly, then chuckled, the sound vibrating Ichigo's entire frame. He lifted his face from Ichigo's neck and focused those laser-like, electric blue eyes on him. "Tha's bad?" he murmured.

"No," he replied, shaking his head fervently as he clung desperately to Grimmjow's shoulders, his extremities twitching occasionally from his high. "Not even a little."

Grimmjow's eyes darkened as he wound an arm around Ichigo's back and pressed him closer to his chest. Ichigo's knees dug into the cushions of the seat as all space between them was diminished to nothing. After silently considering him for what felt like an eternity, Grimmjow finally said, "Ya know I'ma fuck you, right?"

Feeling as though he'd suddenly swallowed his own tongue, Ichigo's eyes rounded to owlish proportions as he slowly nodded.

 _What the fuck else was he supposed to do?_ _He wanted Grimmjow to fuck him so badly, his teeth ached just thinking about it, so there was no way in hell he was going to pretend to be innocent now_.

Grimmjow's grip tightened as he slowly climbed to his feet, Ichigo wrapping his legs around the man's waist like a spider monkey. What the hell? Ichigo scowled and made to get down, not wanting to feel like a helpless chick, but Grimmjow's large hands cupped his ass and his eyes made him freeze. "Don' move," he grunted before making his way to the bar as if he didn't have an orange-haired growth clinging to him.

"What are you doing?" Ichigo hissed, embarrassed and uncomfortable with the way Ishida and Szayel were staring with twin, amused gazes. "I can walk, Grimmj-"

Grimmjow abruptly stopped walking and glared down at him, making speech die a fantastic death in his throat as his mouth snapped shut. "What I say?" he growled.

Ichigo felt his blood turn to little ice chips at the man's tone, but a thrill also swept down his spine.

 _Fuck_.

_Was it horrible that he wanted Grimmjow to talk to him like that when he fucked him every way but wrong?_

_He sincerely hoped not_.

 _On second thought_... _he didn't really give a shit_.

Ichigo decided that silence was his best option at the moment as he continued to hang onto Grimmjow like his life was in the balance. Grimmjow nonchalantly ambled over to the bar and grabbed his cigars and the bag containing his condoms, then made his way over to the end-table beside the couch (where Ishida and Szayel were currently seated) for the partially smoked blunt. He turned in the direction of the French doors that led to the jacuzzi and balcony, but paused when Ishida spoke.

"It's a wonder you ever have company with the way you treat people."

Ichigo hid his face against Grimmjow's shoulder in shame. He felt like such a little bitch at the raven-haired man's statement. Grimmjow merely grinned, showing off all his straight, pearly-white teeth, including scarily sharp canines. Ishida shook his head in mock disapproval as he went back to filling a small, white sheet with broken up Purple. Szayel smirked at his side, throwing a slim arm across the back of the couch as he watched his companion roll up. Szayel's pale yellow, short-sleeved tee and khaki, cargo shorts helped him blend in, where his hair failed to do so. Ichigo still couldn't get over the fact that the man had pink hair. But even more strange was the fact that it suited him, with his mustard-hued eyes and silver, rectangular framed glasses.

Ichigo's attention was stolen when Grimmjow began moving again, this time never breaking stride as he went to the French doors and pushed them open. The balcony was dim, save for the glowing blue lights at the bottom of the jacuzzi and the full moon hanging in the inky sky. Grimmjow shut the doors behind himself and stood off to the side of the white tub. "Down," he mumbled.

Ichigo gratefully slid from around the man's waist, his face burning in mortification as he turned his back on him. He braced himself against the dark railing of the balcony, concentrating on the sight and sounds coming from below them. He couldn't even look at Grimmjow at the moment. He was so out of order at being commanded so easily. True, it was what he wanted, but actually having it happen was a novelty for him. No one had ever dared to tell him what to do and definitely not in such a fashion as Grimmjow had.

Ichigo heard the soft rustling of a plastic bag, but resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to see what the tall, blue-haired man was up to. He could wait. Right now, he kind of had an attitude at the way Grimmjow had humiliated him in front of his friends and even his own brother. He hadn't had the heart to look at Shiro to see what kind of expression the albino had been wearing. Knowing Shiro, though, he'd probably been grinning from ear to ear, happy that Ichigo had finally met his match.

There was some more rustling from behind, but this noise was softer, like the shuffling of clothing. _Was Grimmjow coming over to him?_ _He wouldn't be surprised if the man was_. There was a pointed silence before Ichigo was assaulted with the scent of strawberries and Purple. Yep, Grimmjow was definitely approaching him and by the way the scent grew stronger with each breath Ichigo took, he knew the man was getting closer and closer. His back was barely brushed and he had to tamp down the urge to moan.

 _Kami, every time Grimmjow even got within two inches of him, it set his skin on fire and got his blood to boiling_.

A strong arm was wrapped around his waist and he was tugged backwards against a hot, firm chest, making his eyes involuntarily slide shut. He had a split second to wonder why Grimmjow had brought them out onto the balcony, before another hand was tugging boldly at the button keeping his shorts closed. Ichigo suppressed a gasp, but hurriedly glanced over his shoulder. What he saw made his mouth go even dryer and his heart skip several, necessary beats. Grimmjow was naked, save for a pair of white, knit boxers that barely skimmed the middle of his thighs and revealed long, tanned, muscular legs.

Ichigo's breath choked to a stop and suspended in his lungs. "Wh-what the hell? Why are-"

"C'mere," Grimmjow rumbled, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Ichigo stared for a few seconds more before surrendering to the aggressive and demanding nature of the taller man. He leaned back against Grimmjow's naked torso and wished he had the nerve to divest himself of his own clothing, but he had suddenly acquired a severe case of self-consciousness.

 _Grimmjow had no such qualms_.

His big, slightly rough hands moved from Ichigo's shorts and went to the hem of his polo, slowly lifting, displaying more and more of his skin. The shirt caught at his armpits and Grimmjow arched a brow as if to ask him what the fuck he was waiting for. Ichigo hesitantly raised his arms and Grimmjow wasted no time at all pulling the shirt over his head and carelessly tossing it to the side. Ichigo wanted to wrap his arms around himself to hide his torso from view, but Grimmjow didn't even take heed to his discomfort as his hands went back to Ichigo's shorts, quickly making short work of the button and zipper. The blue-haired gangster hummed, a small smirk tilting the corner of his mouth as he inched the blue and black, plaid shorts over Ichigo's hips.

 _He was trembling_.

 _Uncontrollably_.

No one had ever managed to affect him the way Grimmjow did and the feeling was – _although_ _unsettling_ – akin to a sugar rush. Once the shorts lowered past the curve of his ass, they fell to the cement floor of the balcony, leaving Ichigo exposed and feeling every bit as vulnerable as a newborn kitten.

"Mm, nice," Grimmjow murmured in his ear, making the hairs all over his body lift and stand at attention.

Ichigo didn't know what to say. He was drowning in lust and anxiety, but he was also a tad apprehensive. Grimmjow was so far into the unknown that it made him wary. He wanted the man, but at the same time, he was afraid of what the man could do to him. Ichigo would never admit aloud that he had a sensitive side and that it was often the reason his relationships never made it past the three month mark. However, he couldn't call this thing with Grimmjow a relationship. This was purely fucking, no strings attached. _How could it be otherwise?_ He barely knew the man – aside from what he'd heard in the streets about him and his blond friend, and that alone was enough to give him heart palpitations.

His body suddenly decided to recall its previous indulgence in numerous blunts of marijuana as his limbs trembled and twitched. His head went light and his mouth fuzzy as he turned to face Grimmjow and wrapped his arms around the man's neck. He stood on his toes and leaned forward, intent on capturing the man's full, soft-looking lips in a kiss, only to have his hopes dashed to pieces when Grimmjow curled his upper lip back and frowned, shifting his enticing mouth out of the way.

Ichigo's brows bunched in confusion. "Wha's wrong?" he asked.

Grimmjow gave him that infuriating snort again and looked over his shoulder. "Don' get any ideas," he growled.

Still puzzled, Ichigo forged forward. "I don't get it. What the hell're you talkin' about?"

Grimmjow locked eyes with him, blue orbs frigid. "I ain' kissin' ya. Might as well get that outta yer head, now."

Ichigo swallowed forcefully and returned Grimmjow's icy gaze.

_What?_

_What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was he not good enough to be kissed by him? Or did Grimmjow consider him so much of a whore that he didn't want to engage in any kind of lip-lock with him?_

Blood several degrees colder, Ichigo tried to remove his arms from around the man's neck, but Grimmjow gripped his biceps, keeping them in place. "Mad now?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Ichigo just glared. "Does it matter?"

Ichigo could see Grimmjow's jaw flexing as he considered him. "I don' like kissin'," he muttered, pursing his lips immediately after. "Too personal. I don' want personal right now."

It was Ichigo's turn for his jaw to clench as he debated the meaning of Grimmjow's statements. Even though the words caused an uncomfortable twinge in his chest, he discarded them, knowing he was being ridiculous. He'd chosen to come here because he'd agreed to one thing and one thing only: to have sex with Grimmjow. There had been no pretty words of seduction, there had been no subtle hints at intimacy, there had only been open and blatant lust, which could only result in fucking it out of the way.

 _And that's exactly what he'd come here to do_.

_So why did Grimmjow's words, coupled with his refusal to kiss him make his stomach churn ruthlessly?_

Before Ichigo could respond, Grimmjow had removed his arms and turned to the edge of the jacuzzi, where he'd placed his cigars and bag of contraceptives. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow grabbed the partially smoked blunt and re-lit it, taking a deep pull as he settled himself on the side of the white tub. His long legs dangled over the side, his feet, ankles and calves submerged in the gently roiling water. His back was facing Ichigo and his shoulders were kind of bunched, tension riddled across the broad slopes. Grimmjow had gotten rid of his cap, leaving it on top of the small pile his clothes formed near the French doors of the balcony.

Ichigo suddenly felt bad for turning the mood sour.

Another pull and Grimmjow was glancing over his shoulder at him. He held up the Purple, eyebrow arched. Ichigo nodded and sighed noiselessly. He knew smoking more would only make him even hornier, if that was even possible, but there was no way on Earth he was turning down free, grade-A marijuana. He hunkered down beside the bigger man and accepted the blunt that was steadily decreasing and almost the size of his fingertip. He hated when blunts got that small. It burned his fingertips and lips, so he only inhaled twice before giving the blunt back to its owner. Grimmjow cocked back his arm and tossed the roach over the side of the balcony railing, then grabbed one of his cigars, lighting it and inhaling as his head slowly listed to the side. He appeared to be deep in thought.

Ichigo leaned back on his hands and enjoyed the way his body became lethargic and tingled all at the same time. He hadn't gotten this high in a long time; not since his eighteenth birthday, to be exact. Shiro had produced bag after bag of Blueberry Haze and Ichigo hadn't been able to stop laughing for six hours straight, and that was all during eating his way through the entire contents of the refrigerator at their old home. Their old man had been amused, claiming he missed the joy of his youth. Ichigo knew that their father wasn't a complete retard and had known that they had been higher than a light bill during Christmas. Thankfully, the old goat hadn't kicked them out.

The thick smell of something akin to incense permeated his sinuses and made him turn towards Grimmjow. Grimmjow was staring at him, deep, blue eyes lazy but intense. He was holding the Black & Mild out to him, smoke curling from his nose and the corner of his mouth. "Ya smoke these?" he asked.

Ichigo had tried them a few times and found that he did in fact like them; they always managed to boost his high.

Nodding, he took the cigar from Grimmjow and stuck the beige, filter-tip between his lips before inhaling slowly. It burned, then came out smoothly, soothing his parched throat. He took a couple more pulls from the cigar before handing it off. He was officially zooted out of his mind, now. Eyes barely open, Ichigo felt boldness overcome him as he stared Grimmjow down. The blue-haired man seemed to be oblivious as he sat smoking in all his gorgeous glory, eyes on the other side of the balcony.

Just as Ichigo made to move towards him, the French doors opened and Shiro and Shinji spilled through them, laughing loudly. Shinji had his arm curled tightly around Shiro's waist and Shiro was sporting a necklace made of impressive-looking hickeys. The two men nearly fell into the jacuzzi, so obviously drunk, you had to be blind and deaf not to notice it. Shiro pulled Shinji to the left, adjacent corner of the tub and immediately connected their lips. Ichigo fought a jealous growl as he turned away from the sight.

 _He didn't want to see that shit_. _Not if he couldn't get the kiss he so desperately wanted as well_.

Wet kissing and wanton moans echoed over the balcony, making Ichigo wonder just why his brother and Shinji had decided to bring their show outside. He tried ignoring the two idiots, but a particularly low, guttural groan had his head involuntarily whipping around.

"What the-" he uttered in complete shock.

Grimmjow merely shook his head as if he were watching two children playing.

Ichigo's mouth had taken up space around his knees as he watched his brother sliding his mouth over Shinji's fully erect length. Blood was threatening to spout from his nose as he took in a sight he would have sworn to every kami in creation that he never wanted to see. Shiro's head slowly bobbed up and down in the blond's lap, Shinji's thin fingers weaving through Shiro's ash-white hair as he let his head fall back and his mouth open in bliss.

Ichigo rubbed his eyes, knowing he had to be dreaming. There was just _no way_ his brother was sucking dick in front of him. Of course, Ichigo knew that his brother was gay, but seeing the proof for himself was...slightly overwhelming.

 _Shiro was drunk_.

But Ichigo had been around Shiro drunk before and his brother had never done something as drastic as this. Shifting uncomfortably, he was ashamed to realize that the scene was getting him aroused. As astonished as he was, he was also horny as hell and his hormones were raging. Shinji was undeniably sexy, his blond hair swaying with his rolling head and lower lip caught between his teeth as he alternated from closing his eyes, to reopening them and staring down at Shiro. Shiro maintained a half-smirk as he deep-throated Shinji's rock-hard member, never breaking eye contact with the man. Ichigo almost fanned himself as he continued staring.

 _It was basically porn, after all_.

A movement from the corner of his eye revealed Grimmjow resting his weight on his left hand as he tilted his head to the side and watched his best friend getting head. When he turned his head to focus those cold, devilish, blue eyes on him, Ichigo squeaked like a chew toy being stepped on. Grimmjow's eyes were sharp as scalpels as he visually molested him. Before anything could be said between them, Shiro spoke up.

"So, after watchin' Pinky and his buddy gettin' it on, we came out here ta get shit started an' yer bein' a chicken, King," he said, golden irises shining with misconduct.

Ichigo scowled, refusing to look into the hotel room to see what Shiro was talking about, and opened his mouth to reply, but Shinji interrupted him. "Heh, I thought fer sure ya woulda been waist deep by now, Grimm."

Grimmjow shrugged, sitting up straight. "I was gettin' ta that."

Ichigo felt like he no longer had any say in his own life.

Shinji snorted and gently gripped a fistful of snowy locks, slowly guiding Shiro's face back to his lap. Ichgo's face was hot as he watched his brother return to his previous activity, sucking enthusiastically, his eyes closing as he moaned softly and massaged Shinji's balls. Ichigo bit his bottom lip, wondering when exactly the world had tipped onto its side.

He couldn't deny that he was excited, though. _Shit, if Shiro could do it, then he damned sure could_. _In fact, he'd been in the process of making his own move before the two fools emerged onto the balcony_. Gaining courage, Ichigo slid his hand over to Grimmjow's thigh, his fingers lightly brushing the side. Grimmjow didn't even react. Ichigo realized that he was behaving like a shy little teenager and abruptly threw caution to the wind, especially once he glanced back into the hotel suite and spied Szayel vigorously riding Ishida, his hands gripping the back of the couch, while Ishida's hands were planted on his hips.

Ichigo slipped into the jacuzzi and stood right in front of Grimmjow, his heart sitting on his tongue and pounding like King Kong's fists. He eased his hand up the man's thigh again, this time with more pressure as his fingers edged beneath the leg of his boxers. He finally made eye contact with Grimmjow and his stomach back-flipped. Grimmjow was staring intently, his kaleidoscopic eyes narrowed slightly. His wild, bright blue hair was untamed without the aid of his cap, but Ichigo liked it. He wanted to reach up and finger the man's sideburns, then plow his hand into that silken-looking mass.

 _Kami_.

Grimmjow tossed his cigar over the railing and sat back on his hands, quietly watching. Ichigo licked his lips, excited when he saw Grimmjow follow the movement with his eyes before locking gazes again. "Whatchu gonna do, Ichigo?" he drawled, a smirk forming on his edible-looking lips.

Ichigo swallowed and ignored the escalating moans and pants coming from the other side of the jacuzzi. While his left hand rested on Grimmjow's right thigh, he reached forward with his right hand and daringly cupped the blue-haired man's sex. Grimmjow's eyes immediately darkened, but he maintained his carefree composure. Ichigo massaged a couple of times before his raging libido swore at him and kicked him into action. He unbuttoned the small opening in Grimmjow's underwear and stuck his hand inside, his fingers coming into contact with hot, satiny skin. Grimmjow still didn't say anything, but his eyes were steadily darkening. Right now, they were an impressive navy blue.

Ichigo wet his lips again and wrapped his hand around the gradually hardening member hidden away in the white, boxers. He carefully extracted Grimmjow's dick and stared at it once it was freed. _Thick_. Not extremely long – _maybe around seven inches_ – but incredibly thick. It pulsed in Ichigo's hand and before he knew it, veins were standing out on it as it was fully erected. Ichigo glanced up at Grimmjow and sucked in an anxious breath. The man's eyes were nearly black by now and glowing like embers.

"Suck it," he grunted, his chest barely moving.

Speaking of his chest, Ichigo was distracted by the sight of perfectly chiseled pectorals and a marvelously hewn abdomen. His abs rippled like a cheese grater and Ichigo had to hold back a lusty whine at the sight of his outstanding Adonis lines. Grimmjow had a cute, inny navel that was surrounded by fine, pale blue hairs that trailed beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Ichigo shook his head as Grimmjow's request sunk in.

 _Suck it_.

Grinning to himself, Ichigo thought, _I most certainly will_.

He ducked his head and edged closer to Grimmjow's now bobbing length. The scent wafting off of the man was a mixture of soap, fresh laundry and a natural musk. Ichigo was already light-headed from his high, but when that smell overtook his senses, he shuddered and went even more dizzy. All he could think was, _yum_.

Ichigo slowly registered the sounds of water sloshing and his brother moaning like a paid whore, which made him glance in that direction. What he saw nicked his brain, but gave him an almost painful erection. Shiro was bent over the edge of the jacuzzi, while Shinji gripped his hips and mercilessly pounded into him, a small bottle of lubrication resting beside them.

 _Fucking hell_.

Ichigo gulped and wondered how Grimmjow fucked. _Was he like Shinji? Aggressive and ruthless, driving himself into Ichigo with the force of a battering ram?_ Ichigo lifted his eyes to the shining, blue ones staring down at him and by the calm, impassive expression he was faced with, Ichigo knew he was in for a rough night.

Deciding to stop beating around the bush, Ichigo lowered his head and teased the crown of the head of Grimmjow's arousal. He swiped at it experimentally before languidly engulfing it and sucking gently. Grimmjow sighed and when Ichigo looked up at him to make sure he wasn't fucking up, his heart stalled. Grimmjow's eyes were lower than half-mast as he watched him, encouraging him with his smoldering glance.

"Keep goin'," Grimmjow mumbled. Ichigo grinned around the thick flesh and eased more of it into his mouth, delighting in the low groan Grimmjow let loose. It was barely there, but Ichigo heard it because he was able to feel it; the vibrations from the noise alerted him to it. Grimmjow slid a hand into Ichigo's hair and massaged his scalp before grasping a handful. "More," Grimmjow added.

Ichigo decided to go for broke and lowered his head until his nose met the material of Grimmjow's boxers. He swallowed twice before retreating, then sucking the leaden flesh into his mouth again, this time more strongly. Grimmjow licked his lips and whispered, "Shit. Faster."

Ichigo hummed, obliging, and Grimmjow lifted his hips a bit, the reaction almost involuntary from the look on the man's face. Ichigo didn't care that he was sucking Grimmjow off for his brother to see. He didn't even care that he was more than likely going to be fucked by Grimmjow, too, in front of his brother. All of that was trivial faced with the sheer ecstasy racing through his bloodstream at the moment. He loved the feeling of pleasuring a man who seemed to have a cast-iron personality. Hearing the soft growls and groans coming from Grimmjow almost undid him in his state.

Ichigo delved into his role and used a hand to pump the part of Grimmjow's shaft that wasn't in his mouth, making the blue-haired man hiss and work his hips in time to Ichigo's movements. "Damn," Grimmjow growled, eyes sliding shut. "Suck that shit."

Goosebumps erupted over Ichigo's skin at the comment and the tone in which it was uttered. Grimmjow was so...beautiful like this. Ichigo reached down to palm the man's testicles, but was hindered by the boxers he still wore. Frowning, Ichigo released Grimmjow's dick into the much cooler air, making said man glare down at him.

Whatchu doin'?" he grumbled.

Ichigo tugged at his boxers and breathlessly said, "Take these off. They're in my way."

Grimmjow smirked, but hastily obliged, obviously not wanting to seem overeager, but it was also quite clear that he wanted back in Ichigo's mouth, smoldering furnace that it was. The boxers were removed and tossed over his shoulder without a second glance and Ichigo happily returned to servicing him. Grimmjow's hand found purchase in Ichigo's hair again, but this time was used to guide his movements. His hips thrust upwards and his legs spread wide apart. Ichigo took the invitation and gathered a handful of Grimmjow's balls before rolling and shifting them.

"Unnh," Grimmjow moaned, his head falling back, but hand still gripping the back of Ichigo's head.

Ichigo was bursting at the seams. He was horny, his dick was harder than titanium and all he wanted was to be owned. Grimmjow's pre-come coated the inside of his mouth and filled his senses, making Ichigo suck harder and faster, keeping pace with Grimmjow's moving hips and hand.

 _No man should taste this sinful_.

All too soon, Grimmjow gripped a fistful of Ichigo's hair and tugged him away from his twitching arousal. "Fuck," he said quietly, chest heaving slightly.

Ichigo was proud of himself to be able to reduce such a hardened man to this.

Grimmjow gripped him by the waist and hefted him onto the side of the jacuzzi before standing and striding, naked, over to Shinji and Shiro, who were now entertaining each other via the sixty-nine position. Ichigo stood baffled as he watched Shinji's mouth gliding over his brother's length, the skin saliva-slick.

 _Kami, he couldn't get any harder_. _What the fuck was Grimmjow doing?_

He answered his own question when he spied the tall, blue-haired man grabbing the tiny bottle of lubrication that had been beside his brother and Shinji. Grimmjow stalked back over to him, his eyes holding a feral glint that almost scared Ichigo stupid.

Except he was too horny to be scared. That look merely translated to "I'm gonna fuck the dog-shit outta you" to Ichigo.

Sure enough, no words were exchanged as Grimmjow lowered himself beside Ichigo and grabbed his hips, lifting him bodily into the air until his ass was presented. Ichigo had a moment of panic when he realized just what he was getting himself into. _Would Grimmjow be easy on him with the initial penetration, or would he just dive headfirst, with no regard to Ichigo's well-being?_ He shuddered and looked over his shoulder at Grimmjow, whose eyes were so dark with lust, they were almost unrecognizable.

 _He wanted this_. _No turning back now_.

Grimmjow paused and during the time it took Ichigo to wonder what he was up to, a cool substance was applied to his exposed entrance. Grimmjow spread his cheeks wider and Ichigo trembled. He was positively jittery and couldn't relax if his life depended on it. Suddenly, something breached his tight hole, making his back arch dramatically. Luckily, it was only Grimmjow's finger. The man was up to his last knuckle already and even though there was a small, uncomfortable sting, it was nothing too bad.

Thinking he was about to be prepared, Ichigo's body began to relax just the tiniest bit, but all that was shattered when Grimmjow removed his finger with a low curse. "Fuck this."

The hair all over his body lifted ominously, but there was nothing he could do, except cry out, loud enough to wake people on Mars, and plaster himself to the cement floor of the balcony. "Arrgghh! Fuck!" Grimmjow was halfway submerged inside of him and all he could feel was an agonizing stretching and burning that made him want to bite his fucking tongue off. _What the fuck was Grimmjow thinking?_ Ichigo peered over his shoulder, afraid of what he would find. Grimmjow had a hand on his hip and the other rubbing the center of his lower back, where most of the pain had dispersed. " _Shit, shit, shit_ ," Ichigo chanted in a whimper. "Why _the fuck_ did you do that?"

Grimmjow didn't respond, but his upper body leaned forward and Ichigo soon found his neck covered in soft kisses. _Grimmjow had no problem kissing him anywhere else, but his lips were out of the question? Strange fucking guy_. Ichigo tossed those thoughts aside in lieu of what was still pressing its way into him. His hands shook and his entire body felt like a jar of peanuts after Grimmjow was fully seated inside of him. A stray tear worked its way down his cheek, but he pressed his face against the concrete, successfully hiding it.

"M-my shorts," he said quietly, still adjusting to the rude and overly abrupt intrusion.

Grimmjow leaned over again. "What?" he asked, running a hand over Ichigo's hip.

"G-Gimme my shorts," he said.

He needed something to cushion the hardness of the floor they were currently on. Ichigo's knees felt like sandpaper and so did his elbows. He figured his clothes would serve as a suitable enough barrier between him and the cold, hard floor.

There was a quick moment of silence before Ichigo's shorts hit him in the side of the face. Huffing indignantly, he grabbed them and shoved them beneath his knees. "My shirt."

"Here," Grimmjow grunted, another piece of material being flung at Ichigo's face. "Now, shut up."

Ichigo could do nothing but brace himself as Grimmjow withdrew slowly. Before Grimmjow re-entered him, Ichigo locked eyes with his brother, who was watching him curiously from the other side of the jacuzzi, a small frown gathered between his brows and black thumbnail caught between his teeth. Ichigo didn't even have time to wonder what the look meant before Grimmjow had an unnecessarily strong grip on his hips and was pummeling his backside like a jackhammer. Ichigo's mouth dropped open in shock, confusion and fear. Shock because he hadn't expected it to feel even anywhere near remotely good, but it did. Those deep, rapid thrusts made his pelvis tighten and blood pool in his groin as his brain tried to keep up. Confusion because he thought he would be able to maintain some semblance of control, but he was so wrong.

 _Fucking shit, was he wrong_.

And then there was the fear nipping at him. Grimmjow was so aggressive, so demanding, so commanding, so absolutely powerful, it was scary. Ichigo knew the man could seriously hurt him, but Grimmjow wasn't trying to. Still...

Ichigo tried to wriggle away from the onslaught of sheer bliss drilling him into the surface of the balcony floor. "Ahh! Nnnghn! Ahhh! Fuck!" he yelped with each swift thrust that seemed to rub every centimeter of his insides, mercilessly stimulating his prostate.

 _Kami, he was going to come before he even knew what was hitting him_.

Ichigo reached out for the railing, but was yanked back down. "Why you runnin'?" Grimmjow growled breathlessly as he slammed into Ichigo again, this time harder and faster.

The noises their skin made as it came together was obscene and made Ichigo hang his head and try to ride out the blinding pleasure. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, shit, he couldn't even move. Grimmjow got a good grip on his waist and the pace he set was brutal in every sense of the word.

 _Hard_.

 _Fast_.

"Shit," Grimmjow hissed as Ichigo's insides slowly began spasming.

Ichigo's skin started crawling as he felt his orgasm barreling down on him. He reached between his legs and stroked his own length urgently, his back arching and knees digging into his shorts. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," he moaned deliriously, head swimming and mind nothing but static. Ichigo felt like sobbing, it was so good. The pain and pleasure mixed to make a heady, potent concoction of lethal fucking. "Mmm! I'm comin'!" he shouted, eyes squeezing shut.

His body trembled, his insides warmed, then flared and his pelvis tightened to the point of discomfort before Grimmjow pounded him into release. His hand tightened around his dick as he was wrung dry, semen spurting onto the floor as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

 _Grimmjow was still going_.

His hips were moving faster and faster, until the only noise that was heard was his harsh panting and the wet, fleshy slaps echoing over the balcony. "Rrrruuuggh!" Grimmjow growled as his hips finally ceased moving.

Ichigo's world was spinning like a top as he lay on the floor, face pressed against the cool cement. Again, he locked eyes with Shiro. Shiro's face was flushed and his eyes were incredibly wide as his gaze alternated between him and Grimmjow. "Holy shit," he mouthed.

Ichigo huffed softly as he turned away from his brother's disbelieving stare and Grimmjow eased out of him. His body automatically crumpled, but he still had enough wits about him to watch Grimmjow pulling off the used condom and discarding it in the plastic bag he'd brought with him. Blue eyes roamed over him and flickered, a softening present for the briefest of seconds. Ichigo frowned, wondering what that look had meant, but so much thinking would give him a headache for sure.

He sighed, sweat plastering his hair to his head. He was exhausted. He usually got the munchies after smoking so much, but tonight, he just wanted to collapse on a bed and sleep until he grew a beard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow lay on his back, arms folded behind his head as he stared blankly at the ceiling. He and the orange-haired guy, Ichigo, had ended up making their way into bed after they'd gotten the first round of animal-like lust out of the air, screwing like crazy out on the balcony. Grimmjow turned his head, glanced at the empty box of condoms on the bed-side table, then returned his focus to the ceiling. His thoughts were all over the place and it unsettled him like nothing else had ever done. It made his heart rate quicken, his skin crawl and his flesh twitch. Normally, he'd be knocked the fuck out after all the Purple he'd consumed, not to mention the three bouts of mind-numbingly good sex. His body was certainly tired enough, the muscles in his thighs and back strained beyond belief.

He locked his jaw and clenched his teeth. That right there was the problem. He hadn't had sex like that in a really long time. In fact, if he had to be honest, he'd never had sex that good. He'd had the occasional tryst here and there, but nothing had ever stuck; they had all been means to an end.

Not even...yeah...he wasn't going there.

Ichigo had been perfect.

He'd made all the right noises, all the right movements, all the right...everything. He could tell with their first round that the red head had still been intimidated by him, but by the second, Ichigo had been on top of him, riding him possessively, head thrown back, sultry brown eyes shut and flawless mouth open. Grimmjow shuddered from the recollection. When he'd tried to roll them over so he could reassume control, Ichigo had pressed surprisingly strong hands against his chest, keeping him in place. The following look Grimmjow had received had melted his lower region and caused him to actually work hard not to lose his load by squeezing his eyes shut and imagining something severely unattractive – like old men in bikinis.

He really didn't like positions like that: he considered them too intimate, too easily an invasion of his personal space. He'd already had to inform Ichigo that he didn't like kissing when the man had tried to kiss him out on the balcony. Grimmjow wasn't a fool. He'd known that Ichigo had been pissed because of it, but he didn't like it and he wasn't changing that for anyone, no matter how perfect Ichigo seemed to be. They'd last had sex only half an hour ago, where he'd taken up his favorite position of pressing Ichigo into the mattress from behind. He didn't want to risk Ichigo trying another invading position, like – _god forbid_ – missionary. That one was the worst in his opinion and caused old scars and wounds to rip open with a vengeance.

It was now four-thirty in the morning, but Grimmjow was too restless to settle down. _Can't say that for him, though_ , he thought as he turned his head to the right. Ichigo lay on his side, facing Grimmjow, still naked, his beautiful body untarnished by tattoos or scars; unlike Grimmjow, whose entire torso was littered with black ink, including his back. It wasn't completely covered, but there were enough tattoos to give off that impression. Attention back on the gorgeous man beside him, he turned his head a little more to get a better look until he almost ended up on his side.

Ichigo's hair was plastered to his skin, sweat that was only just beginning to dry, dampened the bright orange strands and made them darker. His skin was still a little pink under the tan and the brown eyes Grimmjow had grown to like so much were closed, the orange eyebrows relaxed, the forehead free from creases for a change. It made Ichigo look younger, more innocent. His full lips were swollen from how much they'd been bitten throughout the night, but they were parted and giving Grimmjow a peek at the top row of impeccable teeth.

Grimmjow couldn't resist, so he slowly removed his left arm from behind his head and reached towards the sleeping red head. He gathered a few strands of Ichigo's hair between his fingers, rolling the satiny strands and marveling at the damp softness. He went on to release the lock of hair, only to pass his hand across Ichigo's brow, pushing orange bangs to the side. Ichigo sighed, then huffed before mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "pass that." Grimmjow couldn't keep himself from grinning, but his amused expression faded when he realized what he was doing.

He jerked his hand like Ichigo had burned him, then rolled away from the orange-haired man. He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the king-sized bed before running an agitated hand through his own hair, making it stick up on his head in its usual disobedience. It was uncomfortably easy to get close to Ichigo and lose himself in the moment. Too natural. He didn't like it. Not at all.

His feet hit the plush carpet of the bedroom floor almost running towards the door, trying his hardest not to look back at the tempting man sleeping on the bed. Grimmjow was still naked, but everyone had already seen his goods so it didn't matter. He left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind himself and bustled his way to the balcony where he'd left thier clothes. Ishida and Szayel were stretched out on the couch, the pink-haired man lying on top of Ishida like a quilt. They too were still naked, but one of them had had the sense to drape a thin throw blanket over themselves to cover most of the nudity. Szayel's glasses were on the coffee table and their absence made his thick eyelashes stand out. Made him look more feminine.

Grimmjow smirked and stepped over articles of clothing that hadn't managed to make it anywhere more convenient than the floor. When he came to the balcony, he immediately spotted his clothes and was grateful that Shinji hadn't been in one of his notoriously playful moods and decided to take Grimmjow's things for a dip in the jacuzzi. Grimmjow hastily threw his clothes on, feeling much more like himself when he tugged his fitted down onto his head and over his brows. He was also thankful that his wallet and car keys were still safely tucked away in the pockets of his jeans. He was about to leave, when he spied Ichigo's clothes balled up in the spot where they'd first had sex. Even though they were all guys, Grimmjow was sure that once Ichigo was sober, he would be pissed his clothing was still outside, leaving him no other option but to retrieve it in the nude. Or at least using a towel from the adjoining bathroom.

A stroke of uncharacteristic kindness rushed through him and he gathered the red head's things before leaving. He maneuvered his way through the disastrous sitting area again, quietly opened the door to the bedroom he'd shared with Ichigo and peeked inside. Ichigo was still fast asleep, only now he was on his back, spread eagle and snoring like a buzzing chainsaw. Grimmjow shook his head and stepped into the room, swiftly going for the chair situated a few feet from the bed. He dropped Ichigo's clothes into it and hurriedly danced back to the door, not wanting to wake the man on the bed.

He knew he shouldn't have, but he hadn't been able to resist. When he reached the door, he slowly turned to give Ichigo one last look. He regretted it instantly. An intense pull to get back in the bed with the orange-haired man almost forced him to his knees. He swallowed harshly and turned away from the alluring sight Ichigo presented, closing the door of the bedroom in the process.

He really didn't like the way Ichigo was affecting him.

"Getaway time?" Shinji – already fully dressed – asked from the door of the bedroom he'd shared with Ichigo's friend.

Grimmjow was too hardened to jump, but inside he'd almost panicked. He hadn't been caught off guard in a long time. "Yeah, gotta split. Can' think straight here," he grumbled, stepping towards the front door of the hotel suite.

Shinji shook his head, but followed Grimmjow to the door. His expression was one of intense curiosity, but Grimmjow wasn't in the mood to answer any questions. He needed to relax and slow his racing thoughts.

There was only one way to do that.

XOXOXO

Shinji climbed into the passenger seat of Grimmjow's Acura and leaned back against the leather seat. He wasn't hung over (that never happened to him anymore), but his body felt numb from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toenails. He'd had such a good time with Shiro he'd been reluctant to leave, but he'd known from the moment he saw Grimmjow go all over-protective of Shiro's orange-haired twin that Shinji shouldn't let himself get too attached to Shiro.

Of course his body hadn't listened to his reasoning and therefore had done a grand job of persuading his mind to follow suit.

Shiro was cool, didn't ask for anything – not even in the way of emotion – and he gave just as good as he got – sometimes even better. Shinji shuddered when he thought about how tight the pale man was, how hot his mouth was and how talented his hands were. Rolling his shoulders to hide the disgraceful shiver, he ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair and sighed quietly. Not that he needed to; Grimmjow blasted his music loud enough to wake the dead. Right now, the song being played was "Fast Lane" by Bad Meets Evil, a combination of two artists, Eminem and Royce Da 5'9".

_Livin' life in the fast lane  
Movin' at the speed of life and I can't slow down  
Only got a gallon in the gas tank  
But I'm almost at the finish line, so I can't stop now_

_I don't really know where I'm headed, just enjoyin' the ride_   
_Just gon' roll 'til I drop and ride 'til I die_   
_I'm livin' life in the fast lane (Pedal to the metal)_   
_I'm livin' life in the fast lane (Pedal to the metal)_

Shinji allowed Royce Da 5'9"'s voice to hypnotize him momentarily before Eminem's voice came on and made his blood start tripping over itself. There was something about Em's voice that made him want to start trouble.

He glanced over at his best friend and narrowed his eyes at the blank expression Grimmjow wore. The blue-haired man was leaning low in the car seat, right hand casually gripping the steering wheel as they careened down the highway towards their shared apartment. Although he'd been relieved when Grimmjow had appeared when he did outside of the convenience store, that had been transformed into confusion not only when Ichigo put himself in harm's way for a guy he'd only just met, but also when Grimmjow had defended Ichigo. Harshly. Shinji hadn't seen Grimmjow that angry in a long time. It could have been because Tousen had managed to sneak up on Shinji, allowing the Blood's idiot sidekick, Yammy, to get the drop on him as well, but Shinji wasn't optimistic enough to believe that. He'd seen the look on Grimmjow's face. To any other person, Grimmjow would have appeared calm, cool, collected even, but Shinji had known the blue-haired man long enough to recognize the rage and small pinch of panic in that gaze, especially when Tousen had kicked Ichigo in the stomach. Tousen would have retrieved his weapon and probably shot the guy, but Grimmjow had put his entire foot in Tousen's gut with a crippling mule-kick.

Shinji had only seen Grimmjow move that quickly a handful of times and they were all when the situation had been extremely urgent. He was certain that this qualified as one of those instances, merely because Grimmjow wouldn't want Tousen to get his hands on his gun, but not because of what he'd seen conveyed in Grimmjow's icy blue gaze. Shinji always thought that when Grimmjow got mad, his eyes resembled frozen, blue sugar water, down to the streaking ice cracks. Grimmjow's eyes had been a mixture of fire and ice, cold and precise like the executioner he was, but passionate and angry, a side of the blue-haired man Shinji hadn't seen since Aaroniero.

He'd already been baffled, but when Grimmjow had stooped to help Ichigo to his feet he'd lost his mind, speechless and utterly flabbergasted. Shiro had panicked during the short scuffle and had tried to make his way over to his brother while Grimmjow was helping him, but Shinji had had enough sense to keep the albino at bay. He had overall refused to interrupt the miracle happening before his eyes. Ichigo had glanced at Shinji and frowned in confusion, probably because Shinji actually _looked_ so damned astonished and puzzled.

Grimmjow had gone on to further confuse him when he'd left his arm around the man's waist, grunting short questions that betrayed the worry Grimmjow had clearly been trying to hide. Shinji couldn't believe his fucking eyes and ears. Normally, after a scrape like that, they would report in to Starrk and tell the family leader what was going on, but this time, Grimmjow just brushed the entire incident aside like it was nothing. Like Tousen and Yammy hadn't been sent specifically after _him_ for whatever unknown reason. Shinji had heard Grimmjow say something about the Bloods' boss, but he was still in the dark about this new development. After that, he'd only been numb with confusion until the alcohol he'd ingested coupled with Shiro had served as a wonderful distraction.

Until Grimmjow had started fucking Ichigo on the balcony of their hotel suite. Sure, he and Shiro had started the lecherous affair, but seeing his best friend get down to business had shown him just how much that orange-haired man had wriggled beneath Grimmjow's skin. Shinji had seen Grimmjow fuck before numerous times. It had even become a game to them. But he'd been mesmerized watching the way Grimmjow had roughly fucked Ichigo, catching the orange-haired man when he tried to squirm away and just pounding into him. Fuck. It had been all kinds of hot as hell.

Shinji hadn't even blamed Shiro for watching the scene with his strange eyes widened to the size of baseballs. It had been completely understandable. Shit, Shinji had felt himself getting more and more aroused the more Ichigo cried out and the more Grimmjow grunted. The sounds their bodies made coming together hadn't helped the situation either and Shinji had soon found himself sporting another erection that could split stone. In fact, he remembered his hand going for Shiro's head when Grimmjow had finally come with a grunted, growling kind of roar, distracting the hell out of him. He'd never heard his friend make any kind of noise when he climaxed, so that had surprised him into forgetting what he'd been about to do. Especially once he got a good look at Grimmjow's expression when the blue-haired man had pulled out of Ichigo. _Talk about an "oh shit" kind of moment_ , Shinji thought.

Shinji had been stuck for the next several minutes, his erection completely ignored. _That look_. Shinji remembered the only time he'd seen that look on Grimmjow's face had been before Aaroniero had done what he'd done to him. Sure, it had quickly disappeared, but the fact that it had even been there to begin with was the alarming thing. After that, Grimmjow had gathered his condoms, commandeered the bottle of lube and actually carried Ichigo to one of the suite's bedrooms, where Shinji hadn't seen them for the rest of the night. He wasn't dumb, though.

Whatever Grimmjow had been feeling, Shinji had known it would fuck with his friend. He'd known that Grimmjow wouldn't be able to stick around once his libido had been satisfied. Sure enough, not long after Shinji had put Shiro to sleep, he'd heard the door from the other bedroom click shut quietly and he'd known without having to look that it had been Grimmjow. He'd eased from Shiro's iron grip, entered his number into the man's phone and quickly but quietly dressed, so he could meet Grimmjow in the sitting area.

Grimmjow had just emerged from the bedroom again, his face filled with lingering regret, when Shinji had made his presence known. The look of shock that Grimmjow had tried to conceal hadn't escaped Shinji, but he'd overlooked it. He could tell by Grimmjow's demeanor that he wasn't in the mood for questions. Only now, _Shinji_ was and it was slowly driving him mad. His very skin crawled with the urge to know what the hell was going through his best friend's mind.

The sound of the turn signal clicking drew Shinji from his thoughts as they turned off the highway and coasted down a fairly quiet road. The city was dead silent, still in recovery from the night before, making the streets loudly echo the sounds from Grimmjow's souped up engine. Shinji grinned smugly. _The one I souped up_. A few more minutes of driving saw them at the parking lot of their apartment, where Grimmjow turned into it and slid into one of their designated spaces. Right beside it was Shinji's space, where his baby, his champagne-colored, 2009, two-doored Honda Civic waited patiently for him to slide into her once more.

It was fully-loaded, low to the ground with a custom grill and kit, boasted the same vertical door opening and a system that rivaled Grimmjow's. The only difference was the exterior's color and the glowing gold that shown underneath it at night. The interior was made of off-white leather and wooden upholstery, and the dashboard gave off an electric blue that reminded him of the man seated next to him. He loved his car as much as Grimmjow loved his.

They hopped out of Grimmjow's Acura and strode towards the entrance of their apartment building, Grimmjow's keys jangling at his side. Shinji knew the look on his best friend's face like the back of his hand. It was the one Grimmjow wore when he was upset, off-kilter, disturbed, confused and agitated, all rolled into one messy ball of emotion. Shinji knew more about Grimmjow than he probably knew of himself and he was sure the feelings were mutual.

They trooped inside the building, the guard at the front desk leaned back in his seat, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him while his mouth hung open and drool slid from the corner. The brunet was knocked out. It would have been all too easy for someone to sneak up on the man and do whatever they wanted. Shinji didn't even have to swallow the urge to run over and bang on the desk, yelling like a madman, something he usually did whenever they caught Keigo sleeping on the job. This time, he was drained and just looking forward to his bed.

They rode the elevator to the tenth floor and slowly traveled down the gray-carpeted hall, the beige walls lending it a morose atmosphere. Grimmjow unlocked their apartment before they almost fell inside, the welcoming scent of home making Shinji sigh. He instantly relaxed, not even realizing that he'd been so wound up in the first place. Their apartment had two large bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms, an oversized, loft-styled living room and a kitchen suitable for a fine restaurant, where everything was stainless steel and black granite. Grimmjow didn't even flick on the light in the living room, instead heading straight for his bedroom, where he disappeared and shut the door behind himself.

Shinji stood in front of his friend's door and shook his head. "Good mornin' ta you, too," he said sarcastically, laughing when there was some shuffling before Grimmjow muttered "fuck you" through the door.

Shinji pretended to go to his room, he'd even closed his door for emphasis, but afterward he came back to his spot in front of Grimmjow's bedroom door, where he leaned against it and slowly slid to the floor, careful not to make any noise. Not that it would matter anyway. Shinji would be able to hear the loud music from behind Grimmjow's door in his own room, but he liked being close to the the man's bedroom when it was being played. It made him feel closer to Grimmjow during a time when his friend was in obvious turmoil with his own feelings.

There was more shuffling and the unmistakable sound of feedback from an electric guitar being hooked up to an amp. Shinji sat Indian style and leaned his head back against the door, eager to hear the familiar tune that Grimmjow always played when he was in his current mood. A few chords were struck before Shinji's mind drifted to the conversation he'd had with Grimmjow after first finding out that his best friend knew how to play the guitar.

They'd been sixteen.

_Shinji shuffled into the kitchen, his mind still set on the melody he'd been entranced by coming from Grimmjow's bedroom the night before. It had played over and over until it had been stuck in his mind and now he wanted to know what the song was. Grimmjow obviously liked it a lot to have it on repeat the whole night._

_He spied his best friend standing at the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of orange juice, dark circles under his dulled blue eyes. Shinji had noticed that Grimmjow had come in later than usual the night before and the only reason he'd noticed it was because he had been unable to sleep, not knowing what was going on with his friend, not knowing where he was and what he was doing. Especially since they'd joined the Crips. Their lives were covered in danger now and he didn't like the idea of Grimmjow being out there alone, even though Shinji knew the blue-haired teen was lethal and able to take care of himself. Still...he had a right to worry about the only family he'd known._

" _Mornin'," he grunted quietly, moving to the fridge for his own glass of orange juice. Grimmjow mumbled in return, his blue eyes locked on the counter top. Shinji grabbed a glass and filled it with juice, taking a sip before turning to his notoriously silent best friend. "What song didja have on repeat las' night?" he asked, beating around the bush never being a part of his make-up._

" _You were up?" he asked._

_Shinji nodded, narrowing his eyes at the look of panic in Grimmjow's tired blue ones. "Ya took a long time gettin' back."_

" _I didn' know ya were still up. I wouldn't have played it," he muttered, brow creasing into a scowl._

_Shinji frowned himself, not understanding the big deal about Grimmjow playing his radio at night. It wasn't like it had been the first time, although, normally, Grimmjow would play rap and hip hop. Not that it was a problem. Shinji had actually enjoyed the change of pace and the grinding electricity of the guitar coming through the walls. "What's the big deal? It's jus' a song, right? I jus' wanna know the name of it-" his words trailed off as he studied the look Grimmjow was tossing in his direction. "What?"_

" _It ain' jus' a fuckin' song!" he snapped._

_He hadn't been expecting that reaction at all. "Ohhkaaayy...then mind telling me what the name of the not jus' a song is?"_

_Grimmjow gritted his teeth. Shinji spotted the unease hidden under the defensive action and continued. "Grimm, I thought I told ya not ta hide shit from me? Ya know I ain't gonna fuck witcha 'bout it, so why ya hidin' it? Thought we were cooler than that," he ended sullenly, slouching his shoulders and turning his head._

_There was a loud sigh from Grimmjow before he slowly started speaking, his already deep voice, low and uncertain. "'Member I toldja 'bout how I was orphaned?" he started. Grimmjow sighed again, this time his forehead wrinkling in a frown. "My folks died when I was eight, only a couple years 'fore I met you. I toldja they were killed, but that ain' the whole story. My Pop was a good guy from what I c'n remember. Had a nine-ta-five an' all. Then, he let my mom get 'im all mixed up with the wrong shit. Started shootin' dope, smokin' crack."_

_Grimmjow's voice trailed off with a faint tremor, but Shinji wouldn't acknowledge it. He knew how Grimmjow hated appearing weak._

" _They started sellin' our shit for their fuckin' habits, most times leavin' me home alone ta fend for myself. Took my TV, my Sega, my movies, clothes...fuckin' everything. I was too young ta understand that they were hooked on drugs; all I knew was that the man I had admired, the man that had given me the world, suddenly started takin' all my stuff and givin' it ta these shady guys that came aroun' every Friday night. My mom would send me ta my room and make me stay in there while they were there. Ya know, I ain't too good at listenin'," he said with an impish grin before it was quickly wiped away as he continued his story. "I went down there one night, feelin' bold and' wonderin' why those guys were makin' off with all my shit all the time-" Grimmjow stopped and rubbed a hand over his eyes, keeping it there as he finished. "I-I saw my mother fuckin' those two dudes, one in her mouth, the other behind her, while my Pop sat in the corner of the room, a needle in his arm and his head back, eyes closed, gettin' high as our utility bills."_

_Blue eyes glistened as Grimmjow removed his hand and glared at the kitchen counter, his big hands curling into fists. As bad as Shinji wanted to go and hug his best friend, he knew that Grimmjow would only resent the gesture. He was so cold, so proud and unmoved, it was sad sometimes. Shinji also didn't know what to say, so he chose to remain silent._

" _I got it, then. I mean, I knew what drugs were; I'd grown up around them my whole life, but my Pop had kept me away from that scene, that life. I 'member goin' ta the store wit' 'im an' askin' 'im why old man Shunsui was always leanin' in front of the liquor store on the corner. Why he always seemed sleepy an' noddin' in the middle of the street. Why his clothes were always dirty and raggedy. My Pop had said, 'Drugs, Grimmjow. Don't you ever get yourself involved in that kind of stuff, you hear?'" Grimmjow quoted, like the statement was a lyric from his favorite song before snorting and shaking his head. "After I saw my Pop gettin' high and Ma fuckin' two dudes at once, I went back ta my room and cried. Like a baby. Like no one in the world gave a fuck 'bout me and I actually cared. I hated both of 'em. I don' understand how the people that made me could jus' ignore me, sell my shit and jus' get high all day and night. Then 'bout a week after that, those same dudes came stormin' in our house, knockin' down the door an' shit. They had my folks at gunpoint, demandin' they get their money. I knew we were broke as shit; I mean, why else would they take my stuff and not pay the bills? We'd been sittin' in the dark for two nights in a row, an' wit'out water for one. I had ta go next door ta Miss Unohana jus' ta wash my ass an' shit. I was hidin' at the top a'the stairs when the tall one wit' brown hair blew my Pop's head off. I couldn' scream, I couldn' do shit but stare. Then, the one wit' black hair an' green eyes shot my mom. I didn' feel anything for her, though, bad as that sounds. I felt like it was her fault for fuckin' up my Pop an' makin' him get inta that drug shit in the first place._

" _Took 'bout an hour for the cops ta come in my neighborhood an' by then I had the only thing that my Pop hadn't given away or sold. It was the only thing he'd treasured, the only thing he actually cared about while he was high." Grimmjow stopped and glared down at the counter. "His Fender Starcaster. It was black and white and sleek and beautiful and it was the only reminder that I had of the good times between me an' him. He used ta play this one song that stuck in my head. Said it was by his favorite guitarist, Eddie Van Halen. I didn' know shit 'bout guitars back then, but...after he died, I kept his guitar an' started teachin' myself how ta play the song he always played."_

_Shinji stared, appalled. No wonder his best friend had so many emotional issues. There was no way a child could witness something like that, endure something like that and not grow up with a few problems. He also understood why the song he'd heard meant so much to Grimmjow._

" _So, yer sayin' that was YOU playin' that song last night?" he asked incredulously. Grimmjow nodded and averted his gaze, his cheeks pinkening._

_If the situation hadn't been so somber, Shinji would have laughed and told his friend he was cute when he blushed. "No way," he breathed instead._

_Grimmjow gave him his attention, his eyes hesitant. "When I'm upset, I play. Las' night I couldn't sleep when I got in."_

" _Yeah, why didja come in so late anyway?"_

_Grimmjow lowered his gaze again as his eyebrows drew together. "Starrk," he said before clearing his throat and starting over. "Starrk told me ta meet 'im at the hideout. I, uh, he asked me ta, well..."_

" _Spit it out already!"_

" _I killed somebody las' night,"_

_Shinji's eyes got so big, he thought they would roll right out of his head as he stared at his best friend. "Ya-ya...what?"_

_Grimmjow ran his hands through his riotous, bright blue hair before gripping the strands on either side of his head, turning away from Shinji and sliding down to the floor, his back against the kitchen island. He was quiet, but as Shinji approached him, he noticed the teen's eyes were wide and distant, an expression he'd never seen before. He stooped in front of Grimmjow and studied the drawn, narrow face before wide, ocean-blue eyes lifted and stared right back at him._

" _I wasn' scared er nothin'," he whispered. "I, it actually felt good, lettin' my anger out somewhere. I didn' care that the guy I shot was beggin', sayin' he had a family. I didn' care."_

_Shinji gulped, but held the intense eye contact. "Wh-why did Starrk make ya kill somebody?"_

" _Starrk didn' make me. I asked if I could. Some guy took a shitload of money an' product from the runners on the block an' Starrk needed ta make an example of him. I didn' know him an' I didn' care. Plus, I wanted ta do it, hopin' maybe it would keep me from losin' my mind. Does that make sense?" he asked, sounding almost like a small child asking why it wasn't OK to cross the street on his own._

_Shinji didn't know the answer to that question, but Grimmjow was his best and only real friend. He would support him through any and everything. "I don' know an' frankly, I don' care. Yer my friend, so if that's what makes ya happy, then I'm witcha,"_

_Grimmjow studied his face a little longer before nodding._

_They had come to an agreement._

Shinji hadn't found out the name of the song until he'd taken it upon himself to look up every Eddie Van Halen song in existence, hoping to recognize the distinct riffs of the song Grimmjow had played. It had taken a few nights of devoted searching on the internet, but he'd found it. The title was more than appropriate in his opinion. "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" explained a lot of the emotional aspects that Grimmjow was lacking, but the passionate way his best friend played the song, Shinji knew that Grimmjow was capable of loving, he just couldn't see it yet.

His eyes closed when the familiar intro started up, the sound traveling through their silent apartment. It was like Grimmjow was speaking his mind with the perfect way he played. Had Shinji not known better, he would have thought that Eddie Van Halen was playing the song himself from inside Grimmjow's bedroom. Shinji lost himself to the climbing and descending chords, wondering what Grimmjow looked like while he was playing.

Did he close his eyes, the song so familiar, he didn't need to look at the strings while he played it? Did he frown? Did he smile? He was curious, but wouldn't let it get the best of him. He knew Grimmjow was immensely private and it took a lot for him to share anything about himself.

Shinji listened to the song twice before rising and going into his room, where he stripped, showered and fell asleep to the sounds of Grimmjow's playing.

XOXOXO

**Three Weeks Later**

_Hollywood we're never going down_

_And all the kids in the hood come and wave and shake your hands,_

_Hollywood we're never going down_

_And when you're drunk shake that ass like you know how to dance,_

_Hollywood we're never going down_

Ichigo nodded his head to the beat of his favorite song, set on repeat and booming from the sub-woofers and speakers in the corners of his bedroom, his door locked and lights dimmed. His bed was unmade, pushed against the right wall of his room, which was covered with posters of his favorite bands and music artists, including the group playing from his stereo at the moment: Hollywood Undead, Eminem, 3OH!3, and Three Days Grace, just to name a few. His window was shut, even though it was hot outside, but the central AC was running so he was fine. Besides, he was too high to give much of a shit, anyway.

He lifted a pinky-sized blunt of Purple to his lips and inhaled deeply, his head still nodding to the beat, eyes so slitted they were almost shut. He stood in the middle of his bedroom floor, a pair of boxers and a wife beater his only clothing as he filled his room with the potent scent of Purple Haze marijuana. A hard thud against his wall and low moan made him suck his teeth on the exhale and reach for the stereo remote on his bed. He raised the volume until it could go no higher, the bass vibrating the walls and the floor underfoot, shaking his windows and pulling him deeper into his hypnotic state.

He'd been smoking himself unconscious for the past couple of weeks, trying to keep his mind off the dangerous, blue-haired thug that had entered his life, shaken it like a cocktail by fucking him so thoroughly and well three times in a row, then disappeared without as much as a wave. To say Ichigo was upset, pissed, disappointed: that was a gross understatement. After having the best sex of his young life, he felt like an addict going through withdrawal whenever he thought about Grimmjow. He'd known the man was emotionally crippled, but he hadn't expected to really be turned into a one night stand, especially not when the man's best friend was at Ichigo's apartment almost every night afterward, fucking his brother like his life depended on it.

He supposed he shouldn't have expected more from Grimmjow, even though they'd had mutually mind-blowing sex three times. Ichigo had counted and he'd been able to tell from the noises Grimmjow had made, that he'd enjoyed the experiences just as much.

Rejection sucked.

It wasn't like Grimmjow didn't know where he was. Hell, all he had to do was ask his friend, or even accompany him. Ichigo wasn't hiding. In fact, he'd inquired after the blue-haired man Shinji's first few times visiting his and Shiro's home, but once it had been made clear that Grimmjow wasn't going to come, wasn't even asking about Ichigo, he'd given up. Granted, he'd started smoking himself into a coma almost every night, but it was only to avoid the depression he knew would hit him if he sat still long enough.

Sober, he would be a wreck.

Ichigo took another deep pull from the blunt and snarled when another thud was heard over the deafening music. He really didn't like being cooped up in the house, listening to his brother getting very laid on a daily basis. It made jealous anger burn his stomach and ignite his chest. _Stupid fucking emotional retard_ , he inwardly seethed, his right temple beginning to throb. He always got remarkably horny whenever his thoughts went to that night he'd fucked Grimmjow...in front of his brother and Shinji no less. He remembered how daring he'd felt when Shiro had initiated his challenge, and how aroused he'd been when he'd realized Shiro and Shinji had been watching Grimmjow fuck him. Not to mention, just the thought of how domineering and commanding the blue-haired man had been, how aggressive his actions and thrusts had been...

 _Shit_.

Ichigo wiped a hand across the back of his neck, his mind flitting from image to image. Grimmjow underneath him had been his favorite memory. He'd been able to see all the small facial expressions, hear all the soft, surprised noises the man made as Ichigo rode him determinedly. Ichigo had known that Grimmjow had been intensely uncomfortable with the position from the way he'd tried to roll them over, where he would be behind Ichigo again. He remembered insisting, pushing down on Grimmjows broad, firm, tattoo-covered chest. He'd wanted that experience to last forever, but unfortunately, Grimmjow had decided to end things quickly by gripping Ichigo's hips, bending his own knees and thrusting up into Ichigo with the same force he'd used when he'd been fucking him from behind. Hadn't taken much longer for him to explode after that.

One more round and Ichigo had been down for the count. Grimmjow had made sure to maintain control of the last time they'd had sex, once again behind Ichigo, but this time drilling him into the mattress, only tilting his bottom into the air. Ichigo's face ignited and his blood warmed as he remembered the fast, slapping sounds Grimmjow's hips had made as he plunged himself inside Ichigo again and again, their sweating skin making the noises wet as well. Although he'd been sore as hell afterward, it had been well-worth it.

 _How the fuck could Grimmjow not want to do that again?_ he thought.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and stalked over to his ashtray. The bottom of the ashtray read "Roll Up" in big bold black lettering, where Ichigo deposited the rest of his blunt. He was hungry, but he was also pissed. He'd gone and let his mind ruin his fucking high, thinking of that blue-haired asshole.

Ichigo licked his lips and glanced at his car keys lying harmlessly on the dresser beside the ashtray. He could run and get some food, but he was too distracted with thoughts of seeing that blue-haired bastard again. He couldn't help the fact that he wanted to be fucked like that again. He wanted Grimmjow to be just as aggressive, just as controlling as he had been last time. This time, though, he would prepare himself to be tossed aside afterward. In fact, _he_ would do the tossing. He would kick his addiction to Grimmjow cold turkey, never mind the consequences.

Mind made up, Ichigo pressed the button on his stereo remote, shutting it off and causing the noises from next door to drastically escalate in volume. He could clearly hear Shiro begging Shinji to go harder and faster. Sneering, he waited them out. He'd gotten so used to hearing the two having sex that he'd learned to tell when Shiro was about to come.

Like now.

His voice would get a tad higher and breathier and he'd start babbling like an idiot. Just like it was doing now. Ichigo gave his brother and his friend a few more minutes before slipping into a pair of athletic slippers. As he made his way to the door, a thought crossed his mind and made him backtrack to the dresser, where he rooted through the top drawer for one of his travel-sized bottles of lubricant. After sticking the bottle in his pocket (just in case), he left his room, trooping over to Shiro's bedroom, where all was silent for the time being.

Not in the mood to give a shit about his brother's privacy, he forewent knocking and opened the door. As soon as he stepped inside his eyes found his brother laying underneath Shinji, both of them covered with sweat and grinning like fools. He shook his head and stared down the blond man on top of his brother.

"Yo," he greeted.

Shinji glanced at him, obviously not caring that he was there either if the grin that widened on his face was any indication. "'Sup, Orange?"

"King! What the fuck're-"

"Shut up, Shiro. I gotta ask Shinji somethin'."

"Shoot," Shinji drawled, his face indicating that he already had an idea of what Ichigo was going to ask.

"Where's yer fuckin' friend?" he snapped, the Purple loosening his tongue and making him ignore just who he was talking to.

Shinji didn't seem to mind as he chuckled and hung his head, locking eyes with Shiro before kissing him softly on the lips. Ichigo huffed an annoyed really didn't want to see that kind of shit. Shinji raised his head and tilted it, regarding Ichigo with a critical eye. Ichigo didn't know what Shinji was thinking, but he hoped he passed whatever test the blond seemed to be conducting.

Finally, Shinji nodded. "East 24th and Madison."

It took a minute for Ichigo to register the simple statement, but once he did, he grinned insanely. "That's where he is right now?"

"Yeah, he's checkin' in wit' the runners. Should be there fer a minute. Ya better hurry if ya wanna catch him, Orange," Shinji said, his voice a teasing lilt.

Ichigo nodded, absently registering his brother's wide grin before slamming the door shut in his haste to get out of the house.

_East 24th and Madison, huh?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow slowly surveyed the block, his cold blue eyes roving over the few cars that lined the curbs and the meandering fiends that passed up and down the sidewalk. There were a few runners dressed casually that were stationed here and there, making it easy for the addicts to cop their desired product. Grimmjow never touched the stuff, but every now and then Starrk would ask him to check the workers just to make sure they were doing what they were being paid for.

He hated it.

Grimmjow leaned leisurely against the hood of his black Cadillac Escalade, arms folded over his chest and the brim to a solid black fitted pulled low across his brow. He blended in with his truck, wearing a form-fitting black tee, black jeans and all black Jordans. He had a job that needed to be done after he left the block, hence the "uniform", as he called it. Starrk had called him to the hideout a few hours before and briefed him on one of their runners who had unwisely decided to pocket more money than he was turning in, making the revenue for his area come up short. As a matter of fact, after Grimmjow had been told who the runner was, he remembered the man being warned for cash coming up short several times before. Of course, he'd never been warned by Grimmjow, so maybe that was why the guy felt it was OK to keep stealing from the family. It was all good. He'd learn his lesson after tonight.

Grimmjow rounded the front of his truck and hopped inside. He had half a blunt of Purple waiting for him before he left to take care of the wayward runner. Grimmjow locked the doors and rolled up the darkly tinted windows, creating a black interior that glowed electric blue from the screen in the dash. He pressed a few buttons, searching for the song he considered to be his anthem and once he found it, he hit repeat and retrieved his blunt. He lit up, immediately filling the leather interior of the luxury truck with the acrid scent of Purple Haze. Bass rumbled like thunder, making him nod his head and quote the lyrics along with Styles P.

_Everyday I need a ounce and a half_

_SP the only flow-er that you know with a bounce and a half_

_Listen kid, I need a mountain a'cash_

_So I could roll up, hop in the whip and like bounce to the ave_

_I get high cuz I'm in the hood, the guns is around_

_Take a blunt just to ease the pain and humble me now_

_And I rather roll something up_

_Cuz if I'm sober, dog_

_I just might flip, grab my guns and hold something up_

_I get high as a kite_

_I'm in a zone all alone mothafuckah, case I'm dyin' tonight_

_So I roll 'em up back to back, fat as I could_

_You got beef wit' Styles P, I'll come and splatter ya hood_

Grimmjow couldn't agree with the lyrics more. His head continued nodding as the high-pitched chorus came around, lowering him more deeply into his hypnotic state. He put his seat back and leaned against the head rest, eyes sliding shut. Shinji always asked him how the hell he got anything done while he was high, but he'd never been able to accurately explain to his best friend how smoking weed kept him relatively sane. If he _didn't_ get high, he would be locked up, banging his head against a wall and screaming his lungs out. If he _didn't_ get high, he would be worse than the Hulk: blowing up at the slightest provocation to his temper. Instead, he tamed his destructiveness by smoking; it helped him see things in a calmer manner.

Tapping on the window made him open his eyes and stare through the windshield, wondering who was brave enough to approach him while he was seated in _this_ vehicle. He rolled his head to the left and glared through the tint, ready to pull his Sig if someone was trying to act up. He expected an enemy and at the very least a confused fiend, but who he found when he focused on the figure outside his window made him crack a small sideways grin.

Grimmjow rolled down the window and took another deep pull from his blunt. The figure leaned close when Grimmjow exhaled, wide smirk plastered across his features.

"Mm! Shit smells _so good_! Wha's crackin', G?"

Grimmjow grinned again and handed the rest of the blunt to his visitor. "Can't call it. 'Sup witchu, Di?"

Di Roy's smirk widened as he accepted the blunt, showing off a mouth full of braces. "Ain't shit! Jus' came ta check ya, ya know?"

Grimmjow nodded as he took in the sight of the ruffled teenager that seemed to look up to him like Grimmjow was his surrogate, older brother. Di Roy's ash-white hair was all over the place, spiky and covering his forehead. He was pretty short and skinny as a reed, but he had the heart of a lion. Grimmjow wasn't blind to the fact that Di Roy tried his hardest to base his behavior along the same lines as Grimmjow's, although that was impossible with his mouth. Di Roy didn't have a filter at all and oftentime it got him into trouble. He was sixteen, always dressed in dark jeans and a white tee (or hoodie if it was cold), and he always, always, _always_ carried a white, Sony radio.

Di Roy would blast the current popular DJ's mixtape, which usually consisted of song blends, where the DJ would take the lyrics from one song and add them to the beat of another. Sometimes they would even overlap beats, making a whole new song, and then there were the up and coming local rappers that had featured freestyles. Freestyles weren't always considered rapping off the top of one's head, but more along the lines of rapping to an industry beat. Even famous rappers did freestyles. Like how Juelz Santana made his own version of J'Kwon's "Tipsy", or how 50 Cent did his own version of Chingy's "Right Thurr."

Grimmjow lowered the volume of the music pumping from his own system, then stepped out of the truck, joining Di Roy in the street. Di Roy happily puffed on the blunt Grimmjow had given him, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Whatchu so happy 'bout?" Grimmjow asked as he leaned against the side of the Escalade.

Di Roy glanced at him, tucking his radio under the crook of his left arm. "Jus' happy ta see ya. You don' come around too much anymore."

"Been busy."

"Nah, nah, I unnerstand. It's cool! Yer a big dog and big dogs do big things, right, Big Homie?"

Grimmjow grinned and shook his head, afterward trying to hide his amusement by tugging down the brim of his fitted. "Whatchu know 'bout a Big Homie, Di?"

"C'mon man! I toldja ya should jus' lemme get down with you and yer fam. I'd be a good soldier, ya know? Yer jus' stuntin' on me."

Grimmjow chuckled under his breath and looked away from the exuberant teen. Di Roy had been asking to be jumped into the same Crip faction Grimmjow was a part of, but Grimmjow was hesitant. Sure, he'd been around the same age when he was brought home, but for some reason, he didn't want the same thing for Di Roy. If Di applied himself to something, he could do anything he wanted, but instead the boy _chose_ to rip and run the streets.

"I don' know, Di," Grimmjow grunted.

"Tch! See? You be playin' me the fuck out, G!"

"Shut up."

Di Roy glanced at him nervously as he tossed the remains of the blunt. When it didn't appear as if Grimmjow was truly upset, his grin was back in full force. "I'm jus' playin', G. Anyway, where's Slim?"

Grimmjow grinned at Shinji's street name, but shrugged. "No clue."

He knew, of course. He knew that Shinji was at Shiro's place, getting it on. He even knew that Ichigo had been asking about him. He wouldn't give in to the extreme temptation of going to see the orange-haired man, though. Being around Ichigo was bad for his control, just like the night they'd fucked. Every time they had settled down, Ichigo would brush against him or rub on something sensitive that would trigger another round of sex. If Grimmjow hadn't left when he had, he was sure he would have dug up the strength to fuck Ichigo again. He just hadn't been able to get enough of the gorgeous red head.

No, staying away from Ichigo was the better option. He knew it probably pissed the other man off, but Grimmjow didn't care. It was his sanity or falling victim to another pretty face that would ultimately get him killed. Grimmjow shook his head and tugged on his fitted again. He couldn't afford to lose his standing and he wasn't willing to throw his life away for a piece of ass.

A fiend ambled over, dark, wavy hair greasy and hanging in front of his face. Pock marks and blemishes scarred said face, while a dark gray tee and black jeans hung off a sickly thin frame. The man smelled worse than a public restroom and from the many track marks on his arms, it was obvious what he was searching for. The man swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Grimmjow.

"My man, ya got suntin' for me?" he asked.

Grimmjow's upper lip curled back as he eyed the man in disgust. Fiends did nothing but remind him of his weak ass folks. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably make the man shit himself in fear, but Di Roy got there first.

"Are you stupid?" the teen snapped, lowering the volume on his radio. "Dontchu know who this is?"

The fiend swayed again, his eyes darting nervously back and forth between Grimmjow and Di Roy. "N-naw. Young blood over there told me to come over here."

"Well, young blood over there was tryna get yer ass killed. G don't hustle, dumbass. Take yer ass ta the blue house across the street," Di Roy stated before he raised the volume on his radio again, Swizz Beats exclaiming "if you real and ya know it, clap ya hands."

Grimmjow averted his gaze from the man as the man turned and strolled towards the house Di Roy had mentioned. He really did hate fiends and normally did his best to avoid them. Checking the runners on the block usually made contact with them inevitable, but still...

Loud music dwarfed the tunes coming from Di Roy's Sony, bass cracking the pavement and sounding like a full stadium stomp. Di Roy's head turned to the right and the teen emitted a low whistle. "Now that's sexy," he muttered.

Grimmjow turned to see what the boy was talking about, only to have his heart speed up and his hands turn clammy. It'd been a long time since he'd felt true panic, but the sight of that gun-metal gray Chevy Caprice was enough to make him inwardly hysterical. The car rolled to a stop across the street and Grimmjow never thought Drake sounded so ominous. "Headlines" poured from the custom speakers until the engine was cut and the driver's door thrown open.

Grimmjow licked his lips and stared as the man he'd been avoiding like a hurricane stormed towards him, brow creased into its usual scowl, pretty mouth turned downwards and molten brown eyes on fire. Grimmjow hadn't felt intimidation like this...ever. The orange-haired man wore a loose pair of black sweats and a white wife beater underneath a black hoodie. The athletic slippers on his feet did nothing to deter his strong and determined stride as he made a beeline for Grimmjow.

Ichigo looked pissed.

XOXOXO

Ichigo was pissed.

When he'd left the house, he hadn't realized until he'd been seated in his car, ready to peel away from the curb, that he only wore a pair of boxers and a wife beater. Shaking his head, he'd left his car and went back inside, slipped into a pair of sweats and a hoodie, then ran back to his car. After having time to think on things, not only was he completely sober, but doubt had begun to creep in on him. What if Shinji had given him that location as a joke? Or what if Grimmjow _was_ there, but with another man? What if Grimmjow _already had_ a boyfriend and Ichigo had just been a late night creep?

The possibilites were torturing him and making it impossible to anticipate what he would find. He'd burned rubber through the streets until he'd crossed that invisible line that seemed to separate the not so bad part of town from the downtrodden part of town. Liquor stores and Chinese food stores began popping up on every block and people milled about like there was an unannounced holiday. Ichigo could remember being in this part of town only a couple of times when he'd been forced to find another weed connect. He was reminded of the acute feeling of being an alien as he drove to East 24th Street and Madison Avenue.

He turned down a dilapidated block, drug addicts seemingly appearing out of thin air to cling to street poles and meander down the sidewalks. It gave Ichigo chills thinking about the people that actually _lived_ in this mess. He certainly couldn't imagine having a childhood in an environment like this one. He drove down the block, sweat forming under his arms and collar as he began thinking that Shinji really had played a cruel joke on him until he spotted an ominous-looking black Cadillac Escalade parked beside a street light. It sat high on thirty-two inch Dayton rims, matching the black exterior perfectly.

Then he spotted an equally ominous-looking figure clad in all black, leaning against the side of the vehicle. An all black fitted cap was pulled low over the figure's brow, but there was no mistaking those thick arms covered in tattoos and the bright blue hair peeking from under said cap. Ichigo's heart immediately started tap dancing on his tongue, his chest feeling like someone was squeezing him to death. A navy blue bandana was wrapped around the man's left wrist and a thick leather wristband was wrapped around the right.

Ichigo pulled to a stop directly across the street from the figure that could only be Grimmjow and idled for a few seconds as he tried to get himself together. Now that he was there, now that he'd actually found the man he'd been looking for, he didn't know what to do. What would he say? Grimmjow's intense, cold blue eyes had locked onto his car and it felt like they were piercing through the dark tints of his windows. For a minute, all the intimidation he'd felt towards the other man came crashing down around his ears, but then he remembered how Grimmjow had fucked him thoroughly before disappearing without a word of goodbye or even trying to make contact with him again.

Anger filled his chest and gut, replacing the sudden case of worry flies. There was no way he was letting someone get away with treating him like that, gangster or not. Anger made him forget just how dangerous Grimmjow was and made him shut off his car before surging from his seat and storming over to the lethally sexy man. As he approached Grimmjow, he absently noticed the presence of a younger guy who couldn't be much older than eighteen. He was holding a white, portable radio, but it was either off or the volume turned all the way down because it was silently resting in the crook of his left arm. Ichigo easily dismissed him. If that was who Grimmjow had taken up fucking, then there was nothing he could do about it, but he would let the blue-haired asshole know how he felt.

Grimmjow hadn't moved since Ichigo had exited his car. His arms were still folded over his broad chest and he still leaned casually against his truck. The rumored death truck. Ichigo finally made it across the street and stood right in front of Grimmjow, waiting for the man to acknowledge him, to say or do _something_. Instead, the teen beside Grimmjow spoke first.

"Yo, G, ya know this guy? He walkin' over here like he got beef witchu er suntin'. Wussup? Wan' me ta take care of him?"

Ichigo's upper lip curled back as he pinned the pale-haired boy with a scathing glare. "Try."

The boy narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, but Grimmjow leisurely held up a hand. "S'cool, Di. Go take a walk fer a minute, yeah?" his deep voice rumbled from the shadow of his cap.

Ichigo shivered slightly at the sound, his body involuntarily reacting. It wasn't fair just how powerful Grimmjow's entire aura was. Everything about the man screamed strength and peril. The teen named Di pouted before shooting a nasty look at Ichigo as he slowly stalked away. When he'd made it halfway down the block, he turned and leaned against a street pole, watching Ichigo and Grimmjow as if he were a guard dog behind a fence. Ichigo rolled his eyes and gave his attention back to the tall man in front of him. He waited a few more beats for Grimmjow to say something and when it was obvious he wasn't about to, Ichigo sucked his teeth and folded his arms over his chest defensively.

"Nothin' to say?" he snapped.

Grimmjow's mouth twitched in the corners before he raised his head and tilted the brim of his cap up. Ichigo felt trapped, his lungs collapsing when he was hit with the full force of Grimmjow's gaze. He'd almost forgotten just how intense and breathtaking the man's eyes could be.

"Long time no see?" Grimmjow responded with a slick smirk.

Ichigo fought back a snarl as he glared. " _Fuck_ _you_."

"That ain't nice," Grimmjow said slowly, his eyes roving over Ichigo as if he'd never seen him before but liked what he saw.

"Fuck nice! I can't believe you're standing here like what you did wasn't fucked up!" Ichigo shouted, beside himself with fury.

Grimmjow's eyes lowered in temperature by several degrees as they narrowed and he took a step closer. "Who the fuck ya talkin' to like that?" he asked quietly, his tone deadly.

"You, asshole! What the hell is your problem? What did I do to you to make you treat me like that?"

Ichigo felt like ants were crawling all over his skin, particularly his back. He was _so pissed_. He didn't care that he sounded like a scorned female; he didn't even care that he was probably ticking Grimmjow off. All he could think of was getting answers.

Grimmjow's eyes flashed like a bolt of lightening before softening just a bit with amusement. "Anybody ever tell ya yer cute when ya get all pissed?"

Ichigo opened his mouth, readying a retort, when Grimmjow's statement sunk in. "What?"

"Yer sexy when yer mad. Maybe I should get ya all riled up more often," Grimmjow rumbled, completely entering Ichigo's personal space and crowding it. Ichigo didn't even have time to fight the fire that lit his face. Grimmjow's voice should be declared illegal. Ichigo took a step back, trying to catch his breath, but Grimmjow just followed him. "What'd ya really come here for, Ichigo?" Grimmjow continued, lowering the axe by making Ichigo's name sound like a satiny caress.

Ichigo felt like he couldn't even remember his own name, let alone what he'd come there for. Coherent thought wasn't cooperating with him and watching Grimmjow's mouth move while he spoke certainly wasn't helping matters.

"I-I..."

Grimmjow cracked a wicked grin that made Ichigo shudder and stare. "Let's go fer a ride, yeah?" he murmured, stepping even closer until there was no space between them.

Grimmjow eased his arm around Ichigo's waist and drew him closer, like a snake coaxing its prey into relaxing. Ichigo melted like neglected ice cream. All he could think about was that night and how _good_ Grimmjow had made him feel. He wanted more of it; he wanted to feel like that _again_ and _again_.

"Yeah," he breathed as Grimmjow began leading him towards his Chevy.

Ichigo knew he should have been more wary of Grimmjow wanting to go for a ride, but his hormones were throwing a party at the thought of more hot sex with the blue-haired gangster. They made it to his car and slid inside. Ichigo tried not to dwell on how good Grimmjow looked in the passenger seat of his car as he cranked the engine and peeled away from the curb.

"Where're we goin'?" Ichigo asked.

"Go ta the park."

Ichigo took a deep breath and did as told. He was angry with himself for being so compliant, for basically dismissing the way Grimmjow had fucked then forgotten about him, but he would admit that he was horny as hell and all too eager to sate his lust. Hell, that was what he'd come there for. It wasn't his fault Grimmjow had seen straight through all his anger and gotten right to the meat of the problem.

Ichigo drove through the streets, crossing back into the relatively nice area of town, then heading for the park. At this hour, it was more than likely deserted, so they would at least have some type of privacy. Ichigo lowered his music as he cruised through the entrance, then found a darkened area near the baseball field. He let the engine idle as he sat back against his seat and waited, biting his bottom lip. He was ashamed to admit that he was too nervous to even look in Grimmjow's direction. The man hadn't said anything after telling Ichigo to go to the park and it seemed like Grimmjow's presence was overwhelming the inside of the car.

Finally, he found his balls and glanced over at Grimmjow, only to have the air knocked from his lungs. Grimmjow was leaned back in the seat, his long legs stretched out as much as possible in front of him and his eyes locked on Ichigo. His hat was pulled down over his brow again, but it didn't keep him from maintaining effective eye contact. Ichigo swallowed harshly, tempted to avert his gaze, but fought through the intimidation Grimmjow's eyes caused.

"You're not gonna answer my question, are you?" Ichigo asked quietly.

Grimmjow just arched a brow like he didn't have the slightest clue what Ichigo was talking about, and that was when Ichigo realized that he would get nowhere questioning the man. As badly as he wanted answers for why Grimmjow had fucked him then left him high and dry, he knew he wasn't going to get any. It'd be best to get what he wanted out of the encounter and move on. There was no taming the beast that was Grimmjow and Ichigo didn't plan to waste anymore time trying.

"Fuck it," he muttered, sliding over to the silent, blue-haired man.

For once, he was glad that his car didn't have a middle console. The only obstacle was the lowered armrest, which he quickly lifted out of the way. No words were necessary as he leaned towards Grimmjow's neck. The man smelled _so good_ , like a mixture of Purple and Armani cologne. Ichigo sighed happily as he flicked out his tongue for a taste, his hand sliding over Grimmjow's rippling abdomen and broad chest. That same hand crept up the man's neck and up into his hair, where Ichigo knocked the fitted aside and plowed his fingers through the incredibly silky strands. He kissed, licked and nibbled around Grimmjow's strongly corded neck and Adam's apple, delighting in the man's scent and slightly salty taste.

"Want you," he murmured, dizzy with lust as he tugged on Grimmjow's hair.

Ichigo eased onto the man's lap, straddling his powerful thighs. Finally, he got a response. "Nah. Ya want this dick."

Ichigo blushed profusely, but hid it by ducking his head and returning to Grimmjow's neck. Then he scolded himself for behaving like a scared little chick. He wouldn't shy away from the things Grimmjow was going to do to him this time. He lifted his head and gazed down into Grimmjow's exhilarating eyes, his untamed, blue mane making him appear wilder.

"Maybe I do," Ichigo replied, hands going for Grimmjow's belt. "You gonna give it to me?"

Grimmjow grinned, his royal blue eyes lighting up. "Nah. Ya gotta take it."

Ichigo smiled and fumbled with the man's belt a bit before he finally got the buckle loosened. He undid the button to Grimmjow's jeans, then opened the zipper. Once that was done, his hand plunged through the opening and found soft, cotton boxers, but he dug through the hole in those and moaned when his fingers finally contacted soft skin covering hardened flesh. Oh god, Grimmjow was already erect, thick length practically springing through the openings Ichigo had created. The musky scent of Grimmjow's arousal filled the car and made Ichigo light-headed. His hormones raging, Ichigo lowered himself between Grimmjow's legs, glad that his car was roomy. He stroked Grimmjow's veiny shaft, then smirked, remembering Grimmjow's statement.

"Don't mind if I do," he mumbled before leaning forward and sucking the head into his mouth.

Ichigo's tastebuds seemed to explode when the familiar taste teased and heightened his senses. His own length hardened as he drew more of Grimmjow's into his mouth. Grimmjow grunted and ran a large hand through Ichigo's hair before grasping a handful and keeping him in place as he began guiding Ichigo's slow movements. Ichigo moaned and rolled his eyes shut, immersing himself in the scent and taste he remembered like yesterday. He didn't understand how he had allowed himself to become so completely addicted to the man in front of him, especially considering Grimmjow's incapability to invest any emotional input.

Ichigo shook his head minutely, ridding his mind of thoughts of Grimmjow and emotions together in the same sentence. There was no use dwelling on the impossible, so he would focus on gaining as much pleasure as he could during what he believed to be his last encounter with the beautiful blue-haired gangster. He lowered his head and relaxed his throat, shaping the muscles around Grimmjow's thick erection before swallowing once, then twice. Grimmjow lifted his hips and groaned quietly.

"Damn," he murmured.

Ichigo would have grinned if his mouth wasn't full. Music played softly in the background, but wasn't loud enough to cover the wet, sucking sounds or the barely audible encouragement from Grimmjow. Ichigo continued sucking, his pace quickening as he added more pressure. He wanted to feel Grimmjow's balls in his palm, so he reached through the spaces he'd created and gently tugged the soft sacs from their confines. When they were exposed, he massaged and rolled them, enjoying how they shifted. Then he pulled away from Grimmjow's member, leaving it glistening with saliva before lowering his mouth to those satiny sacs. He laved and kissed before slowly engulfing one testicle, then sucking and rolling it around in his mouth, carefully avoiding his teeth.

"Oh shit," Grimmjow grunted, his hold in Ichigo's hair tightening.

Ichigo took that as further encouragement to do the same to Grimmjow's other testicle. After he'd given them both sufficient attention separately, he used his fingers to ease the two into his mouth at the same time. Once they were both nestled comfortably inside, he used his hand to stroke Grimmjow's damp and straining shaft, thoroughly enjoying the way Grimmjow arched and grunted, the muscles in his thighs tensing and relaxing in spastic intervals.

Ichigo was so engrossed in pleasuring the blue-haired man that it came as a surprise when Grimmjow tugged his head away from his groin, his nuts slipping free from Ichigo's mouth with an obscenely loud and wet noise. Ichigo frowned in confusion as his eyes met Grimmjow's half-lidded gaze.

"Tryna make me come already?" Grimmjow asked, his voice husky and deep.

Ichigo smirked saucily as he slithered back onto the man's lap. "Maybe. Somethin' wrong with that?"

"Nah, but I wanna be inside ya when I do. Take these off," Grimmjow ordered as his big hands went for Ichigo's sweats.

Ichigo stripped with a satisfied smile, his heart racing pleasantly. He couldn't wait to feel Grimmjow buried inside him again. Then he remembered their first time fucking on the balcony of that hotel suite and his arousal dwindled. He was down to his boxers and wife beater when he paused and glanced cautiously at Grimmjow.

"I want you to fuck me, but..." his voice trailed off as he tried to put together a way to explain that he didn't want Grimmjow to just dive right in.

He wanted the foreplay of preparation, but he also didn't want to seem weak or unmanly. Plus, he didn't quite know how to go about _asking_ the man to prep him. Ichigo had the necessary material, but it was up to Grimmjow to decide whether Ichigo would be eased into readiness. He could always do it himself if it came to that, but it felt better with another person doing the job.

Finally deciding that blunt was the way to go, Ichigo cleared his throat and continued, trying not to cringe at the intense way Grimmjow stared at him. "I don't want you to just go right into the fucking. I-I..."

Grimmjow arched his brows. "Ya want me ta prep ya first?" Ichigo felt his face go hot, but nodded anyway, relief flooding him when Grimmjow gave him a lopsided smirk. "I gotchu," he said, his voice _almost_ tender.

Ichigo had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss him. There were times when Grimmjow showed tiny glimpses of a side of himself that Ichigo didn't think existed and now was definitely one of those times. It took a huge effort to brush aside the generous behavior, but Ichigo managed. He slid out of his boxers, exposing his slightly hardened erection before tossing them onto the back seat. Once his lower half was completely naked, he eyed Grimmjow impatiently, wondering why the man was still nearly fully dressed. Ichigo wanted to see more of that tanned, tattooed skin and Grimmjow was bullshitting around.

Finally, the taller man lifted his hips and lowered his jeans and boxers to his ankles. Then he removed his t-shirt, the resulting exposure of his perfect torso making Ichigo's mouth involuntarily water.

"God, yes," Ichigo hissed, his hand shooting forward to glide over Grimmjow's abdomen and chest.

Grimmjow grinned smugly. "Yer terrible fer my ego, Ichigo."

"That's OK. You deserve the praise. Your body's fuckin' perfect."

Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to change, Grimmjow's face softening as if he were letting his guard down. "C'mere," he said quietly, hands going to Ichigo's waist.

To Ichigo, it seemed like the world had tilted on its axis, overturning things and upsetting the usual order of nature. The open expression on Grimmjow's face was disconcerting and so distracting, Ichigo had a hard time focusing on the matter at hand. He allowed Grimmjow to slowly ease him onto his knees in the passenger seat as Grimmjow positioned himself behind him. Ichigo lowered the seat, making it recline against the back one so he could be more comfortable.

"Ichigo."

Ichigo fought not to arch his back and groan at the way Grimmjow's incredibly deep and sexy voice wrapped around his name. "Yeah?"

"Ya got suntin' I can use fer this?"

Ichigo blushed, embarrassed at his absentmindedness. "Yeah, in the glove compartment."

There was a split second's pause before Grimmjow chuckled and the sound of rustling was heard. Ichigo registered the compartment opening then closing while he waited, chiding himself for making a big deal about being prepped, but forgetting to produce the necessary lubricant. Distracted by his thoughtless moment, he didn't realize Grimmjow had opened the bottle and poured some on his fingers until one cool, slick digit slid down the crack of his ass.

Ichigo jumped, his nails digging into the leather of his seat. That had taken him off guard. Grimmjow's slow but steady stroking of the seam of Ichigo's rear morphed into thick arousal that made Ichigo press back against the man's hand, body practically aching with need. But Grimmjow used his free hand to grip Ichigo's waist, keeping him from moving.

"Ya wanted slow so tha's what yer gettin'."

A mixture of a whimper and a chuckle left Ichigo as he resigned to the fate he'd condemned himself to. Grimmjow used that time to ease a single finger inside him, resting it deep. Ichigo sighed noisily. Yes, he wanted slow, but Grimmjow was torturing him with his snail's pace. He rolled his hips and was rewarded with a low grunt.

"Keep movin' like that an' I'll be forced ta skip this part," Grimmjow rumbled.

"God," Ichigo moaned, dropping his head. "I just want more."

Grimmjow stopped his thrusting finger and Ichigo nearly panicked. What was he doing? He hadn't meant to make him _stop_. Then the volume to the radio was raised. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder to see the blue-haired man wearing a concentrated smirk that made his insides melt.

"Need a soundtrack."

Ichigo laughed, but the amused chuckle was abruptly cut off when Grimmjow added another finger to his entrance. "Mm."

Grimmjow's fingers rubbed over Ichigo's prostate, making Ichigo's breath catch and heart pound. This was what he wanted. He wanted Grimmjow to get him worked into a lather, his excitement at fever pitch and just when he thought he would die of want, Grimmjow would relieve the pressure with his thick length.

Another quiet laugh penetrated the heavy atmosphere, causing Ichigo to glance over his shoulder at Grimmjow again. "What?" Ichigo asked, his brow automatically furrowing.

"Nothin'," Grimmjow said around a chuckle. "Jus'...this song's kinda appropriate, yeah?"

Still frowning, Ichigo tuned into the song that he'd dismissed as background music. Once he recognized it, though, his lips curved into a grin. "It is."

_Ya gotcha leg on the dashboard, ya hand on the gas_

_Ya grippin' on the seatbelt, my hand on yo ass_

_We breathin' real hard so we gon' fog up the glass_

_If I start the engine up, man I bet we go fast_

_Now take off_

_And I ain't never fucked in the car_

_Baby can you tell me have you fucked in the car_

_I got the keys baby we can fuck in the car_

_If I start the engine up, man I bet we go far_

_Now take off_

Grimmjow leaned over Ichigo and licked the back of his neck, tongue scorching like wet, fleshy fire. Ichigo's pelvis tightened, pressure building in his groin. He couldn't breathe, so high was his anxiety, but he didn't want to rush Grimmjow either. He wanted to enjoy the rare moment of gentle treatment from the hardened gangster.

Grimmjow's fingers twisted and explored, stroking Ichigo's passage like an animal being petted and making him roll his hips anxiously. When Grimmjow added a third finger to the sweet torture, Ichigo felt his sanity leave him as he threw his head back, shut his eyes and moaned desperately.

Fuck wanting the foreplay to last.

"OK! OK, OK, OK! I'm ready now!" he gasped, pushing back against Grimmjow's fervently searching digits.

Grimmjow chuckled, but then growled when Ichigo used his bare foot to tease his still rock-hard length. "Say no more," the man grunted as he removed his fingers.

Shuffling ensued and almost made Ichigo look over his shoulder, but before he could, he heard the unmistakable sound of a rustling wrapper and knew that Grimmjow was in the process of rolling on a condom. Ichigo dropped his head to the seat, already anticipating the moment Grimmjow would impale him. Instead, he was shocked out of his skin when Grimmjow teased his entrance with the head of his erection, rubbing it first down the seam of his rear, then back up. The result was Ichigo arching towards the stiff, blunt heat, nearly delirious with need.

"Please," he whispered under his breath, not expecting Grimmjow to hear him.

But he did.

Grimmjow entered him with a slow thrust forward, penetrating him almost carefully, making Ichigo's eyes roll back in his head as his mouth fell open. It was damned good. He pushed back until he felt Grimmjow's balls against his own, sighing as the man gripped his hips and groaned.

"Why ya feel so _right_?" Grimmjow muttered as if he couldn't believe it.

Ichigo couldn't find an answer to that question, but he figured it was rhetorical anyway, so all he did was moan in response. His mouth had gone dry and his heart thudded strongly in his chest. Thought gave way to sensation as Grimmjow pulled back and surged forward. His movements were deliberate and precise, rubbing Ichigo's prostate and making his dick painfully hard. Then Grimmjow grunted and started the furious pace Ichigo associated him with. Ichigo gave a long, drawn-out moan, his arms sliding on the leather seat as the heat from the closed interior of the car began making him sweat.

"Oh god," he choked as Grimmjow's thrusts grew harder, faster, deeper. "Just like that."

"Mmhm," Grimmjow responded shortly, his breathing heavy.

The sound of swift slapping of skin made the hair all over Ichigo's body lift as he moved with Grimmjow. He gripped the headrest then lowered himself to his elbows, affording Grimmjow deeper penetration and Grimmjow actually moaned loudly, which was a first for Ichigo. The man had only ever grunted and groaned quietly during their last encounters, so hearing Grimmjow's obvious pleasure turned Ichigo on to the point of blankness.

"Yes. Yes. Yesss," he hissed as Grimmjow twisted his hips with every forward movement. "Mm, _fuck_ yes!"

Grimmjow gave a low hiss of his own and squeezed Ichigo's hips tighter, his nails digging into the skin. Ichigo couldn't feel his arms or knees, but it was secondary compared to the rest of what his body felt. And then Grimmjow reached around his waist and stroked his overly sensitive length.

"Nnghahhh!" Ichigo cried unintelligibly.

His back bowed and his arms and legs quivered like a new foal's. His balls lifted as Grimmjow began stroking faster, his palm increasing in pressure and then the world erupted in bright white light as Ichigo came explosively and unexpectedly. He'd been trying to hold onto the intense-almost-to-the-point-of-painful feeling acquired right before orgasm, but Grimmjow forced him into release with his hand and wonderful sex.

Ichigo shivered like jello, tears forming in the corners of his eyes from the powerful moment. Words couldn't accurately express just how _great_ he felt. Grimmjow had outdone himself this time and all because he'd paid a little more attention to _Ichigo's_ needs. Ichigo had been so immersed in his own orgasm that he'd failed to register Grimmjow's. Grimmjow was slumped over his back, his breathing hot and harsh against Ichigo's skin and his hands back to gripping Ichigo's waist like a lifeline.

When the world began making sense again, Ichigo realized that Grimmjow was emitting a deep, rumbling noise that almost sounded like a satisfied purr. His abdomen was slick with sweat and his scent was driving Ichigo to distraction. Sure, it was sweaty, but it was male and tinted with cologne and the faint smell of marijuana. Ichigo turned slightly, thinking the action would make Grimmjow adjust his position, but all the bigger man did was grunt and softly kiss Ichigo's shoulder. The gesture was so unexpected, so purely unpredictable it left Ichigo speechless. He paused and stared at the blue-haired man, wondering what had prompted the kiss.

Grimmjow didn't speak or move for several more seconds, but when he did, the words made Ichigo's stomach lurch. "I ain't who ya think, Ichigo."

"What are you talking about all of a sudden?" Ichigo asked, totally confused.

Grimmjow finally eased out of him, pulled off the condom and discarded it through the window. He nudged Ichigo aside, arching a brow at the mess Ichigo had left behind on the seat. "Ya gonna clean that up?"

Ichigo frowned at the ice in Grimmjow's tone. It was like the man had immediately closed himself off after realizing he'd been opening up. Ichigo didn't like it, but he couldn't say he hadn't expected it. Shaking his head in disappointment, he reached past Grimmjow and retrieved a few emergency napkins he kept in the glove compartment. He wished Grimmjow wasn't so wary of people, which in turn made Grimmjow wary of him. Ichigo knew that the blue-haired man had emotional issues - due to what? He had no clue; that was a different story entirely. But he wished not for the first time that he could be the one to crack through Grimmjow's ironclad shell.

After Ichigo cleaned his mess, he tossed the napkins through his window and dressed slowly. The usual soreness was beginning to set in, shaking his legs and arms and making his ass throb. A dull ache formed inside him as he finished dressing. He didn't like giving up the best sex he'd ever had the privilege to partake in, but Grimmjow had snapped shut like a large book, making any form of open communication impossible.

Ichigo glanced over at him and stifled a weary sigh. He was tired because of the sex, true, but also because he didn't know what to do to reach Grimmjow. It seemed like the man had a steel barricade surrounding him at all times and Ichigo only came equipped with a miniature pick axe. He was fully unprepared to handle whatever demons were making Grimmjow behave so coldly.

Grimmjow had redressed and was leaning back in the passenger seat. His fitted was tugged over his brow and his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jeans. He was silently regarding the outside of the car as if searching for an intruder. _Yeah_ , Ichigo thought dejectedly as he put the car in gear. _I won't be getting anywhere with him, even if I was persistent and tried with all my might._

He motored out of the park and back in the direction of where he'd picked up Grimmjow, heart strangely heavy. He didn't understand what the dead weight in his chest meant, but he shook it off. He'd known this would be his last time fucking and seeing Grimmjow, so he wouldn't let it get to him when he said goodbye.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

**Three Months Later**

Grimmjow rubbed a hand over his face as he stood in the shower, his heart thumping slowly. His hair was wet and plastered to his head and the hot water pouring over him did nothing to soothe or calm him; neither did the entire blunt of Purple he'd smoked before climbing into the shower. He watched absently as the water slid over his tan skin and dark tattoos, dipping into the sloping creases of his abdomen and pectorals. His mind was shooting in a million different directions, making it impossible for him to mellow out the way he normally did after a successful hit.

Three hours earlier, Starrk had given him the name of a man that had foolishly stolen a large amount of money from the family and had even gone on to threaten their organization after he'd done it, claiming he would go to the cops and start giving names. Grimmjow had shrugged. The guy, Jacques Pierre, also known as Frenchy, had been just another idiot going against the grain and thinking he was invincible. Nothing Grimmjow couldn't handle.

**Three Hours Ago**

_Grimmjow sat in his black Escalade, black fitted pulled down over his brow. His music was low, the engine off and his eyes locked onto a small, brown house half a block from where he was parked. The window in front had been illuminated by a lamp inside, but just seconds ago the light had blinked out, casting the window into darkness. This was the address he'd been given and knowing Starrk's resources, it was more than likely accurate. All he had to do was catch Frenchy, put him out of his delusional misery and go about his business. Just like he normally did._

_As he'd found the address, the neighborhood had given him a bad case of nostalgia, the surrounding houses familiar in a way he'd wanted to forget. Of course, he'd ignored it, but the tug at the back of his mind was annoying at best. Still, he'd parked his truck and sat back to wait for Frenchy to leave his home._

_The front door to the brown house opened slowly and a man of average height emerged, glancing up and down the block nervously. He had maroon-colored hair that was tucked under a black baseball cap, and pale skin that he tried to hide under a dark leather jacket - the collar turned up - dark jeans and boots. There was that sense of familiarity and nostalgia again. Grimmjow ignored it. Frenchy shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the stairs of the porch, making Grimmjow grin and shake his head. Frenchy wasn't very bright._

_Anyone that went against Grimmjow's family knew about him and his truck. Even those that_ didn't _go against the family knew about him. His reputation far preceeded him and he liked and preferred it that way. Made things much easier. Yet, here Frenchy hadn't even recognized Grimmjow's truck parked on his block and it wasn't as if Grimmjow was trying to hide._

_He shut off the vehicle completely, sticking the keys into the pocket of his black hoodie, and casually hopped out onto the pavement. He slammed the door shut and hit the alarm, the truck beeping twice and drawing Frenchy's attention. The man paused and glanced down the block at him, his eyes squinting in the darkness. Grimmjow reached behind his back and under his hoodie, feeling for his Sig as he watched Frenchy's eyes widen with recognition and horror._

_Game time._

_Frenchy took off down the street, legs and arms pumping furiously, but Grimmjow just smirked. People thought because he was a heavy smoker that he couldn't move fast when he needed to. Their assumptions always led to his triumph. Grimmjow broke into a dead sprint, controlling his breathing as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, his black Jordans hitting the ground almost soundlessly. He drew his weapon and continued to chase Frenchy, closing the gap between them until Frenchy ducked into a darkened alley between two houses. The houses were separated by chain-link fences, but Frenchy didn't seem to care as he raced towards the backyards._

_Grimmjow followed behind him, not even tiring. His night vision had always been better than average and it was proving to aid him in his hunt. Frenchy stumbled over the uneven patches of grass in the yard and that was all Grimmjow needed to catch up to the fleeing man. When Frenchy regained his balance and leaped onto the fence in the backyard, more than likely meaning to hop it and continue the race, Grimmjow grabbed the back of the man's jeans and yanked him down to the ground one-handed._

_Frenchy hit the ground with a harsh thud, wheezing and his back arched into the air as he gripped it. His black cap had fallen off during their run, causing that almost burgundy-hued hair to spill across the collar of his leather jacket. Grimmjow could see that the man had had the air knocked from his lungs, but still the guy tried to run. Frenchy rolled onto his side and clawed at the grass, trying to pull himself to his feet, but Grimmjow stepped in and kicked him in the stomach. Frenchy cried out, gasped, then coughed violently as he collapsed onto his side, arm wrapped around his mid-section protectively._

_"Where ya goin', Frenchy?" Grimmjow asked quietly._

_There was no need to raise his voice after all._

_Frenchy coughed again and glanced up at him. Fear was written all over his angular face and glittering in his wine-colored eyes. "I wasn't goin' nowhere! Why the fuck ya chasin' me?"_

_Grimmjow frowned. "Ya gotta be shittin' me." Frenchy spat up a glob of red-tinted saliva before glaring ineffectually at him. He wisely held his tongue, though. "Yer kiddin', right?" Grimmjow continued._

_"I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout."_

_Grimmjow arched a brow and rubbed his forehead with the muzzle of his gun. He didn't like a smartass. He stepped forward and kicked Frenchy in the face, grinning when the man's nose went "crunch."_

_"Know what I'm talkin' 'bout, now?"_

_Frenchy howled and coughed, blood spurting from his nose and mouth. "Fuck!" he screamed, grabbing at his face._

_Grimmjow wasn't worried about the noise Frenchy was making. In this kind of neighborhood, no one was likely to come looking, or even call the police. They knew the consequences of snitching; it was like an unofficial code of the streets. If you snitched, nine times out of ten, you would be the next victim, your picture gracing every white tee in the hood. R.I.P. would become your new initials and your reputation would be ruined, even in death. A snitch was like the street version of a leper: no one associated with them and no one wanted to be around them when the reaper came calling._

_"Oo peacha chit!" Frenchy shouted behind his hand, nose leaking like a ruptured dam._

_Grimmjow smirked and cocked his weapon, thoroughly enjoying the way Frenchy's eyes bugged and immediately filled with tears. "Come again? I don' think I heard ya correc'ly."_

_Frenchy remained silent, but it was too late to gain a brain. His time had run out the moment he had stolen from Grimmjow's family and then had had the nerve to threaten them. Grimmjow crouched to eye level with the red-haired man who was sitting up, trying fruitlessly to staunch the flow of blood pouring from his nose and easing from his mouth._

_He tapped Frenchy's forehead with the barrel of his Sig. "Know what this is, Frenchy?" he asked cordially. Frenchy flinched drastically, but still remained silent. That was fine with Grimmjow. "This here's that awkward moment where ya get caught with yer hand in tha cookie jar."_

_Frenchy slowly dropped the hand that had been covering his nose and mouth and glared at Grimmjow, eyes shining with barely checked tears. His lower lip trembled as he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth coated with blood. "This was never about me," he stated, dropping the slang._

_"What?" Grimmjow asked with a frown._

_"I only wanted revenge. I almost got it...but I was too hasty. I got caught, but rest assured it won't end here, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. There's one more of us."_

_Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he climbed to his feet and clutched the handle of his gun. He knew it. He'd known there was something familiar about this block, something strangely nostalgic about Frenchy's maroon hair and wine-colored eyes. Grimmjow gave a silent snarl, his lips curling back to bare frightening-looking teeth._

_"Three years," he growled._

_"Not nearly enough! My brother is dead because of you!"_

_"I gave that shit three fuckin' years! Wanna know why he died?"_

_Frenchy scowled, the tears he'd been holding onto so valiantly, finally finding their way down his cheeks. "No. It doesn't matter."_

_"Fuck that," Grimmjow said quietly. "It matters. It_ mattered _. It mattered 'cuz I was too young ta know any better. I didn' get the fact that bein' with somebody was jus' more trouble, more hassle. Yer brother taught me that. He taught me not ta trust no one, taught me ta strap up whenever I fuck, no matter who they are, er how close they get, but more importantly, he taught me that there ain't no such thing as love."_

_"He loved you!" Frenchy shouted._

_Anger welled up in Grimmjow's chest before he deliberately stifled it. Relax. Don't lose it. He lifted the gun and pointed it at Frenchy's forehead. "Liar," he said calmly before squeezing the trigger twice._

Grimmjow ran a hand over his face again and sighed, frustrated. It seemed like all the Purple in the world wouldn't be able to erase that blast from his past. He'd done his best to forget about Aaroniero, but it seemed like nothing worked. Hell, just when he'd thought he was in the swing of things, not needing to worry about that shameful three years in his past, Aaroniero's brother had shown up, telling him there was one more of them out there somewhere, more than likely plotting against him. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to smoke several times a day just to remain in a semi-state of calm? That he only had one friend that he could trust? That any chance at anything even _remotely_ romantic was ruined by memories of his past and the unlikelihood of his future?

" _Fuck!_ " Grimmjow shouted as he shut off the shower, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

His stomach was hurting and his mind didn't seem to realize that he didn't want to be bothered. This feeling of never-ending shame and guilt, this unease was exactly what he tried to avoid on a daily basis with his smoking. These emotions made him feel unacceptably human.

He stepped out of the shower stall, wrapped a large white towel around his waist and left the adjoining bathroom, slowly trudging into his bedroom. Once he entered the room, he glanced in the corner at his father's black and white Fender. Usually when he felt like this, he would play that guitar until his fingers ached, but for some strange reason, he just didn't have the desire to shred.

With a long-suffering sigh, he flopped down onto his bed. He knew what would get his mind out of his past. If he got laid, his mind would settle long enough for him to get some sleep at the very least. The only problem with that solution was that every time he thought about sex, bright orange hair and deep brown eyes flooded his vision and distracted him. He'd tried fucking someone else, but the experience had left a bad taste in his mouth along with the sticky feeling of having done something wrong. He didn't need that kind of complication added to what he was already dealing with, but Ichigo...Grimmjow wanted him. He wanted to fuck him again. He didn't want to spend the night with him, didn't even want to kiss him, but he did have the crippling urge to go see the man, even after not seeing him for three whole months.

Ichigo had left that night of the park episode with a grave, almost sad goodbye. Grimmjow hadn't paid it any mind. He'd figured Ichigo would come looking for him again in the future. He'd figured wrong. Ichigo _hadn't_ come looking for him. He hadn't even asked Shinji about him, and yeah, that pissed him off. Although Grimmjow hadn't wanted the attention from the other man, when he no longer had it, it was disturbing.

Grimmjow reached towards his night stand and grabbed the cell phone he rarely used. He only had the damned thing so a handful of people were able to reach him. Once he had it in hand, he went into the recent calls log and connected a call. It rang three times before the person answered.

"Yo."

"I need that, now," Grimmjow demanded.

Shinji sighed over the line. "Whatever."

XOXOXO

_You make me this_

_Bring me up_

_Bring me down_

_Play it sweet_

_Makes me move_

_Like a freak_

_Mr. Saxobeat_

Ichigo nodded his head to the beat as he and Shiro moved through the crowded club. The Loop Lounge was packed tonight, but the atmosphere was festive. Neon glowsticks and necklaces whirred on the darkened dancefloor, while other patrons milled around the large circular bar. Loop had no dress-code, no admittance fee and no smoking bans. Ichigo could place the scent of various types of marijuana, as well as cigarettes, black and milds and the mingled smell of people and beer.

The best part about Loop, though, had to be the forties and the music. Before eleven, the DJ played club, rock and hip hop, but after eleven, the DJ would switch to nothing but dubstep. The bar served four dollar Long Island Iced Teas all night long and four dollar forties. You had your choice between Old English or Coors Light and they always handed them to you in a brown paper bag.

Although Ichigo wasn't much of a drinker, beer he could handle with his weed. Anything stronger and he was Best Friends Forever with the nearest toilet or trashcan. Or sink. He'd had one of those nights before. He also preferred Old English over Coors Light. Somehow the Coors tasted watered down.

The club was dark, darker than a normal club. Sure, they flared the occasional strobe light, but the main sources of illumination were the lights around the bar and the light from the projection screen that showed random videos against the back wall of the dance floor. There was a stage there too and once the females got drunk (or high) enough, they would hop onto it and dance. It was pretty sweet entertainment. Especially the night one chick nose-dived off the stage thinking she was about to crowd surf, only to have the people part like the Red Sea and make her fall flat on her face.

Good times.

Ichigo chuckled in remembrance as he and Shiro headed to the bar. They ordered Old English forties from the chipper, dark-haired bartender, then leaned against the counter after they received them. Ichigo sipped his beer and sighed happily. It was ice cold and carbonated. Perfect.

Shiro nudged his shoulder and made him glance over at him. "What?" he asked.

"Yer boyfriend's here."

Ichigo felt a slight moment of panic when he glanced out at the crowd. For a second he'd thought Shiro had been talking about...well, never mind. He searched the sea of faces and snorted when he spotted who Shiro had to be referring to.

"In your dreams, white boy."

Shiro cackled before taking another swig of his beer. "Oh shit, King, he's comin' over here."

"Oh maaaan," Ichigo whined, not at all in the mood for the dark-haired man heading his way.

He hid his face behind his beer bottle, hoping the man would get the picture, but of course he didn't. "Yo, Ichigo! How goes it?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo lowered his bottle and nodded. "Same as always, Ganju."

"Oh yeah? That's cool. Feel like dancin' tonight?" the taller, more muscular man asked, his features twisted with hope as he performed a little two-step.

"Nah, jus' tryna chill."

Ganju pouted and turned towards the dance floor, his body still moving of its own accord. Ichigo shook his head. Ganju was cool, but he was mega corny. He had no sense of style and he spoke like an old man trying to be "down." For example, Ganju had on a baggy pair of blue, Wrangler, carpenter-styled jeans, and a thick, green scratchy-looking sweater. Dark blue, run-down, New Balance sneakers were on his feet and his dark hair was slicked back into a ponytail.

Fail.

Ichigo gulped down some more of his beer and sighed. He _had_ been telling the truth when he'd told Ganju that he was just trying to chill tonight. His mind had been pretty busy the last few months trying to keep away from a certain blue-haired gangster. He'd even trained himself to ignore the ache that usually accompanied Shinji's presence at his and Shiro's apartment.

If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was extremely jealous of his twin. It didn't seem fair that Shiro could have the man he'd been lusting after for so long, while Ichigo couldn't. Then again, that was life. C'est la vie. Besides, he'd known the last night he'd seen...that man...that it would be the last time. Ichigo wasn't about to risk his sanity for someone who considered him on equal terms with a fly on his nose.

No thanks.

But...he _did_ miss the sex. A lot. He missed how...that man...had dominated him, had fucked him until he'd been unable to stand it. He even missed how - oh, fuck it - _Grimmjow_ had been a man of few words, but the words he _had_ used had been powerful, easily turning Ichigo to sludge. He missed how good the man had smelled, how good he'd tasted. He missed that scary but sexy as fuck grin, those slicing blue eyes and even that wild, bright blue hair.

He missed it all.

And he _hated_ the fact that he did.

Grimmjow had probably found someone else to play with by now, so there was no use for Ichigo to pine over spilled milk. In fact, he had a mind to find a new plaything of his own, although, he knew for sure that he wouldn't find someone as all-around intriguing as Grimmjow. Nor as dangerous.

"Hey, Ichigo, my love!" a high voice called, interrupting his thoughts.

Ichigo turned his head to find that Ganju had thankfully made his way onto the dance floor, and that a short, petite, raven-haired male was addressing him, thin arms opened wide for a hug. Ichigo grinned as he recognized one of his friends from high school.

"Hey, Yumi," he said warmly as he stepped into the light embrace. "How ya been?"

"Great! You? We have to catch up! You know Ikakku has been asking about you and your brother!"

Yumi talked so fast, like a song in fast-forward. If Ichigo hadn't already been used to it, he would have been lost trying to figure out what Yumi was saying.

"Cool. We can do that."

Ichigo took in his old friend's appearance and smiled. Yumi was the most flamboyantly gay male Ichigo had ever encountered. He was wearing a tight, white tank top that read "Boys Love Me" across the front in neon-pink lettering, equally tight, white skinny jeans, held up by a sparkly pink belt, and rainbow-striped, laceless Vans. His hair was worn in his usual chin-length bob, and feathers and glitter surrounded his right eye. He had like a million rubber wristbands on both wrists and three neon necklaces around his neck. Full of energy, he couldn't be still as he passed a glowstick back and forth between his slender hands.

"Hi, Shiro-doll!" Yumi continued.

Shiro gave Yumi his signature shark-grin and shook his head. "Someone needs ta take out yer batteries an' letcha rest fer a bit. Ya been movin' since ya came over here."

"You know me! Ikkaku likes it," Yumi crooned before taking the glowstick and sliding it in and out of his mouth suggestively.

"Slut," Ichigo chuckled.

"Mmm, and _so_ damned proud."

Ichigo shook his head as he watched Yumi's hips start moving to the new track that bled through the speakers, bass making the entire establishment vibrate like clippers.

_Party Rock is in the house tonight_

_Everybody just have a good time_

_And we gon' make you lose your mind_

_Everybody just have a good time_

Yumi clapped his hands excitedly, his feet moving to the beat as he started Shuffling. First he started with the Running Man, then smoothly transitioned into the side-stepping Shuffle. After that, it just looked like Yumi was sliding all over the place, movements fluid and graceful as a ballerina. He was so good, he immediately drew a crowd that egged him on with loud cheers and whistling. Ichigo couldn't stop smiling. Sometimes he wished he could dance like Yumi, but he also knew that that was perfectly impossible. Yumi was a professional. Literally. He even danced back-up for some well-known celebrities.

"Ikkaku must have fun with him," Shiro muttered into Ichigo's ear.

"Yeah, he probably does. Yumi is pretty flexible."

"Lucky bastard."

"Listen ta you!" Ichigo said in surprise. "One might think you're actually jealous."

"Nah, but I c'n appreciate the beauty of sex, King."

"Ya sure you're not gettin' tired of Shinji?"

"Fuck no. Ain't no way in hell tha's happ'nin'," Shiro stated firmly.

Ichigo grinned to hide the green-eyed monster trying to rear its ugly head. His brother was happy and really that was all that mattered. The song ended and Yumi skipped back to their sides, smiling broadly, lavender eyes ablaze.

"Oh gosh, that was fun!" he exclaimed.

"I bet," Ichigo said.

Yumi arched a brow, obviously not ignorant of the surly tone in Ichigo's voice. "Woo! Someone's in a _bad_ mood."

"King hasn't been laid in a while, Yumi. S'OK," Shiro offered, golden irises twinkling with devilment.

Ichigo shot his brother a dirty look, but was distracted when Yumi leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "Dick is wonderful. Get some."

"Wahahaha!" Shiro shrieked, bending at the waist as he tried to keep a grip on his forty.

Ichigo had to laugh. There was no way he could keep a straight face after that. "Get outta here, Yumi," he chided.

Yumi laughed and switched away into the crowd after lightly slapping Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo glared over at his brother who was still cackling uproariously.

"Idiot," Ichigo grumbled, then drank deeply from his beer. "Where's the Piff, Shiro?"

Shiro immediately sobered and straightened his back. Face now semi-serious, he fished around in his back pocket before withdrawing his cell. "Fuckin' Shinji was s'posed ta bring me some before we left. He ain't answerin' his phone, though."

The scowl on Shiro's face worried Ichigo because he hated seeing his brother upset. "Everything's cool, though, right?"

Before Shiro could respond, the screen to his cell lit up and after reading the caller's name, the albino hurriedly answered, spinning away from Ichigo while plugging his free ear with his finger. "Yeah, where are ya?" Shiro yelled.

Ichigo watched his brother walk away towards the entrance of the club, then Ichigo turned back to face the dance floor. He slowly lifted his beer to his lips, but paused before drinking. He _was_ pretty horny. Just because he wasn't being fucked by that blue-haired asshole, it didn't mean he couldn't find someone else to take home. As the song switched, Ichigo let his eyes roam the club...until he paid attention to the words.

_We can fight our desires_

_But when we start making fires_

_We get ever so hot_

_Whether we like it or not_

_They say we can love who we trust_

_But what is love without lust?_

_Two hearts with accurate devotions_

_And what are feelings without emotions?_

Ichigo wanted to gasp at the deadly precision of the lyrics, but hid his reaction behind swigging from his beer. The song made him think of Grimmjow for some reason. He couldn't say he was in love with the blue-haired man, not at all, but the lust thing was right on.

_I'm going in for the kill_

_I'm doing it for a thrill_

_Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand_

_And not let go of my hand_

Ichigo shuddered as the music swooped into a demanding dubstep beat. He recognized the particular mix of this song as one by Skrillex. Skrillex was like a dubstep beast. Ichigo loved all of his mixes. He rocked back on his heels and fell into a trance as the music enveloped him and made his body sway. He wished Shiro would hurry up with the smoke so he could _really_ enjoy the music. For some reason, being high made music a million times more enjoyable and for someone like Ichigo, who lived and breathed music, the feeling was epic.

The song went off, but picked up with "Hold Me" by Delta Heavy. Awesome ass tune. Ichigo nodded his head and mouthed along to the high-pitched chorus. The DJ was doing his thing tonight. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump, whirl and scowl at the offender, only for him to find his brother standing behind him wearing a wide grin.

"Ready ta smoke?" Shiro asked.

"Dude, I was born ready," Ichigo retorted before tossing back the rest of his forty and leaving the empty bottle on the bar top.

He followed Shiro out of the club with a small frown. Where the fuck were they going? They had always smoked inside Loop before, so Ichigo saw no reason for them to leave now.

"Where we goin'?"

Shiro glanced over his shoulder, white hoodie blending with his pale skin. "Shin wants ta meet us at the house. He says he don't trust the people over this way."

Ichigo sighed. Great. If he wanted to smoke, he would have to cut his night short and he just knew that that meant Shinji had plans to stick around. Ichigo glanced down at his watch, mouth pulled into a frown. It was 11:45 pm. Pretty early for a Friday night.

They made their way to Ichigo's Chevy, Shiro automatically jumping into the driver's seat. Ichigo wished he could muster the same excitement his brother was displaying, but his body suddenly felt bone-tired. He knew it was because he was allowing himself to get depressed, but he couldn't help it. Shiro had the man of his dreams, whom he fucked on a rather daily basis, while Ichigo had...his hand. Not very impressive, if you asked him.

He hardly paid attention as they floated through the streets to their apartment, and only noticed their arrival because Shiro had to shut off the car. They pulled in front and Ichigo recognized the champagne-colored Civic parked across the street, meaning Shinji was already inside. Ichigo hadn't really thought it the best idea to give Shinji a key to their apartment, but his brother was head over heels, so there had been no persuading Shiro otherwise.

Shiro nearly ran to the house, where he flew onto the porch and fumbled around with his key in his haste to gain entrance to their home. Ichigo followed at a much more sedate pace, not at all in a hurry to see the blond gangster that had turned his brother into a romantic fool. Ichigo closed and locked the door, before heading up the stairs. He could already smell Purple in the air, but that was strange because Shinji rarely smoked. Like Shiro, he was more of a drinker.

Once Ichigo reached the top of the stairs, he stepped into the apartment, then closed and locked that door before glancing around the living room. Shinji was seated on the couch, feet kicked up, and he was wearing a white, v-neck tee and gray jeans. Shiro was damned near in his lap, kissing him, the sounds obscene from all the way where Ichigo stood near the door.

Ichigo didn't see any blunts, but he could smell the marijuana. Raising a skeptical brow, he addressed his brother's boyfriend. "Where's the Piff, Shinji?"

Shinji finally paid him a bit of heed as he pulled out of the kiss with Shiro and cracked one of his signature piano-key grins. "I left some in yer room so me an' Shiro could be alone."

Ichigo sucked his teeth. He was basically being shooed into his room so Shiro and Shinji could spend some quality alone time together, even though they'd just seen each other a few nights ago.

"Fine, whatever. What'd ya get to roll up with?"

"Gotcha Swishers."

Ichigo nodded, dropped his keys onto the table beside the door and trudged towards his room. His door was cracked, but he thought nothing of it because he left it like that all the time. When he stepped into his room, shut the door and moved towards his bed, though, he quickly changed his mind.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes almost fell out of his head. His breath stopped mid-inhale and his chest tightened considerably. His skin prickled and heat erupted everywhere. "What the...fuck?"

Ichigo watched, spell-bound as a tall figure wearing a form-fitting, navy-blue, v-neck tee and light-blue jeans stood from the bed. The navy-blue fitted on the figure's head was pulled down low across its brow, but nothing this side of creation could hide that distinctive, bright blue hair and when the figure lifted its head and pushed back the fitted, there was no mistaking those captivating royal blue eyes that honed in on Ichigo like a scope.

Grimmjow moved towards him, not stopping until he was crowding Ichigo's space like he always did. Ichigo attempted to lick his lips, but his mouth was so dry, he was surprised sand hadn't started pouring out of it. Grimmjow still smelled completely amazing, and his eyes still held the power to render Ichigo utterly speechless.

"Miss me?" the blue-haired man murmured.

Ichigo exhaled forcefully and noisily, his heart pounding painfully. He'd never been a liar and he wasn't about to start now. "Yeah."

Grimmjow nodded. "I figured that."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

He was worried about King.

His brother had always had a surly disposition, but after meeting Shinji's blue-haired friend, King had only gotten worse. He had mood swings that were oftentime explosive and he didn't joke around with Shiro as much as he used to. Their relationship had become strained. It didn't help matters that Shinji seemed to be the model boyfriend, either.

Shiro glanced over at his blond lover draped across the couch comfortably as if he belonged there. Sighing, he ran a hand through his ash-white fringe and leaned back against the couch cushions. He hadn't expected things with Shinji to go quite as well as they had. What he _had_ been expecting was the treatment King received from the dangerous Grimmjow. Shiro liked Shinji. A lot. But he'd been prepared for dismissal and never hearing from the slim gangster again, only to have his mind blown when Shinji had contacted him the very next night, wanting to come see him. Even then, he'd still been anticipating the novelty of something new to wear off for the other man. Shiro had thought that Shinji didn't feel anything particular for him, other than lust, of course, so again he'd been staggered when the guy had repeatedly sought him out to spend time with him. They fucked like rabbits, but they also shared a surprising companionship.

Shiro had a feeling that what he and Shinji had found in one another astounded and unsettled the blond as well, but Shinji had been careful not to show it. Shiro also suspected that Shinji just wanted someone to be with outside of Grimmjow. Sure, Grimmjow was his best friend, maybe even his only friend, but that didn't mean Shinji didn't want a special person to be romantic with. But hey, what did Shiro know? He was only guessing in the long run.

He had come to realize, though, that he'd grown strong feelings for Shinji. All the time they spent together, all the sex they had, and even the intriguing conversations they'd had, served to push Shiro into involuntarily caring for the man. Thankfully, Shinji wasn't _as_ emotionless as his best friend, but it didn't mean Shinji didn't have his own issues. Case and point, Shiro had quickly learned that his lover had abandonment trauma.

A few weeks into their frequent encounters, Shinji had finally caved and spent the entire night with Shiro. Shiro had secretly been overjoyed, but he'd held his excitement at bay, behaving casually as if Shinji staying with him hadn't actually been the big deal that it was. During the night, though, Shiro had been awakened by furious thrashing. He remembered turning over to find out what the hell Shinji had been doing, only to find the blond's face streaked with tears as he fought the bedsheets. Then, Shinji had settled, quieting down, only to turn towards Shiro and cling to him like a wet napkin.

Shiro had been confused, but had kept the incident to himself the next morning when Shinji had awakened. The same event had occurred several more times before Shiro had gathered the courage to ask Shinji about it. His asking had caused the other man to distance himself for one painful week. Shiro had pretended his lover's absence hadn't affected him, even going as far as hiding his feelings from King - although, that had been pretty pointless since King had been so wrapped up in his own melancholy - but by the fourth day of the week, Shiro had found himself unacceptably upset. He hadn't been able to eat, sleep or concentrate. He supposed that was when he'd realized he cared about Shinji in more than just an "I fuck you" sort of way.

He had been on the verge of calling Shinji and cursing him to the deepest parts of Hell, when the slender man had appeared on his doorstep, looking just as haggard as Shiro assumed he himself looked. That night had certainly changed the dynamics of their relationship. _No_ , they hadn't exchanged whispered words of apology or anything disgustingly romantic as that, but what _had_ occurred had been just as powerful, maybe even more so, in Shiro's opinion. Shinji had locked them in Shiro's room and sat them on the bed, where Shinji had proceeded to _talk_.

Shinji had never had a problem holding a conversation before, but that night had been different. The blond had actually shared the side of himself that he'd usually kept tightly under wraps. Shiro had learned that Shinji had nightmares about the day his parents had left him in their home to starve. They hadn't cared whether he'd lived or died and had gone on their way to God knows where. He'd been six. He'd been found a week later by the landlord, beyond hungry and surviving on water and a stale box of crackers alone. From there, Shinji had been bounced from foster home to foster home, where he'd met Grimmjow. The two had become fast friends and had been inseparable. After a stint in an orphanage, the two had run away together, joined the Crips and begun their life of violence and crime. Shinji had told Shiro that even though he wasn't an enforcer like Grimmjow, he was still pretty important in his gang family, simply because their leader considered him brilliant and quite handy with cars and machinery in more than one way.

Shiro had been floored, but had refused to show his lover any pity. He'd realized that, had the roles been reversed, he wouldn't have wanted anyone's pity, either. Besides, Shinji felt that he'd more than made up for his parents' abandonment. He just involuntarily had nightmares about it sometimes. They'd had sex that night, but like Shiro'd said before, it had been different. Slower. More passionate. His face grew warm just thinking about it. After that night, they'd settled into the comfortable realm of being a true couple.

That had only caused his concern about his brother to increase. It seemed the closer Shiro got to Shinji, the more King slipped into his depression. Shiro remembered one night where King had snapped out of it to demand that Shinji tell him where Grimmjow was. At first, Shiro had thought that King had been signing his own death certificate, searching out someone as dangerous as the blue-haired man, but Shinji obviously hadn't thought so. His boyfriend had given King Grimmjow's location and before Shiro could protest, King had been out the door and into the night, music thumping from his Chevy like a heartbeat.

Shiro had been telling Shinji off, scared that something was going to happen to his twin, when Shinji had shut him up with a single glare.

_"Ya think I'd let somethin' happen ta somebody ya care about?"_

Shiro hid a smirk with the back of his hand and pretended to yawn. Shinji may be a hardened gangster, even a criminal, but there was a side to him that made him endearing. Yet, Shiro knew that in order for anything long-term to happen between him and the blond, he would have to find a way to persuade the man to leave his life of gang-banging behind. Some would think that foolish, while others would think it downright stupid and naive, but Shiro had to do something. He was quickly falling for Shinji and the way the other man lived didn't allow for serious relationships.

"Whatchu over there thinkin' 'bout?"

Shiro jumped, his thoughts scattering like ants. Once he calmed from the initial shock of Shinji's voice cutting through the comfortable silence, he shrugged and met those golden-brown eyes. "King."

Shinji lifted a brow, but relaxed further into the couch and rested his interlaced hands on his flat abdomen. "What about 'im?"

"I jus' feel bad 'cuz he's always fuckin' down. It's yer friend's fault, ya know," Shiro couldn't help adding with a pout.

"Heh. Yer cute. C'mere."

Shiro sighed, but slid over on the couch until he was resting beside the blond. He lay his head next to Shinji's and sat, enjoying the small silence and wishing that there was something he could do for his brother. He really hated seeing King look that way. Shinji started to speak, when a loud thump made itself known over the distant sound of music coming from King's room.

"What the fuck?" Shiro mumbled, his head lifting as he stared over the back of the couch at King's closed door. "What the hell is he doin' now?"

Another thump.

"Maybe he's workin' out," Shinji said with a chuckle, eyes slitted and nearly hidden beneath his blond bang.

Shiro frowned and left the couch, edging his way over to his twin's door. He wouldn't be surprised to find King tearing up his room in anger, especially if he'd smoked already. However, judging from the lack of the thick scent of Purple that usually accompanied such an event, Shiro figured his brother hadn't gotten around to lighting up yet. He finally made it to King's door and pressed his ear against it.

_Cheers to the freakin' weekend_

_I'll drink to that (yeah-eeyeah)_

_Ohh, let the Jameson sink in_

_I'll drink to that (yeah-eeyeah)_

_Don't let the bastards get you down_

_Turn it around with another round_

_There's a party at the bar, everybody put your glasses up_

_And I'll drink to that_

Thud.

The noise added to the vibration of something heavy colliding with the door, made Shiro jump back in shock. "O-oi," he muttered softly.

He had his hand raised to knock, when an impassioned moan reached his ears. Eyebrows on the roof, Shiro stared at the door blankly, mouth open and heart hammering. What the _fuck_ was King _doing_? Playing with himself? The song faded, so Shiro was able to hear what was going on in the brief lull before another track began playing.

"Better...so much better." That was King's voice.

Another thud.

"Mm..." King again.

Shiro arched a brow at the next thing he heard.

"Taste good."

That wasn't King's voice at all. In fact, that deep, gravelly baritone only belonged to one person. Shiro turned and gave his boyfriend a murderous glare as he pointed a finger at King's door.

"Why the fuck's _he_ in there?" he snapped.

Shinji sat up slowly and peered over the back of the couch, those devilish eyes alive as he gave a sideways smirk. "Ya think yer brother's the only one been sufferin'?"

Shiro's eyes went wide as he turned back to King's door. "No way," he breathed.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stared down at the orange-haired man before him and slowly tilted his head to the side. "What?"

Ichigo's brow went up as he shifted his weight. "I said yer an arrogant asshole."

Grimmjow felt a frown threatening to pull his features into that familiar downward arc. "So? Ya knew that part already."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, either."

Ichigo brushed past him and went over to a black stereo, where he grabbed a small remote and pressed a button. Music immediately drifted from the huge speakers, bass rumbling the walls and floor. Grimmjow was kind of stuck. This was the part where Ichigo was supposed to turn into green glitter goo and let Grimmjow take him to another level of pleasure.

Why wasn't that happening?

Ichigo had his back to him, shoulders tense and body stiff, but other than that, Grimmjow was being totally ignored. Suddenly, a revelation made him laugh. _Oh, I get it now_ , he thought _._ Ichigo was probably still mad at him.

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at him, face pinched into a tight scowl. "What's funny?" Grimmjow ignored the question and waited for that slim body to turn and face him fully. "I know ya heard me." Grimmjow just arched a brow in return, lips twitching and aching to curve into a smirk. Ichigo was so _cute_. "Fine, don't speak."

With that, Ichigo made his way back to the door. He still had his back turned as he kicked off his sneakers, so he didn't see Grimmjow walk up behind him, closing off any route of escape. Grimmjow did smirk this time, already envisioning the look of panic sure to be on Ichigo's face. However, when Ichigo _did_ turn, there was no panic, just a brief glimpse of surprise.

"Is this the part where you overwhelm me with your overbearing personality?" the red head drawled, folding his arms over his chest.

Grimmjow would have _really_ been offended had he not realized the defensive action for what it was. As it were, he put his arms on either side of Ichigo's head and pinned the shorter man to the door.

"Maybe. Ya had suntin' else in mind?"

Ichigo let his head fall back as he locked eyes with Grimmjow. Ichigo seemed like he was looking for something and when he didn't find it, he scoffed and turned away, stubbornly glaring to the left. "I don' wanna do this anymore."

"Do what?" Grimmjow asked with a frown, not liking where this conversation seemed to be heading.

"This! This _game_ we play whenever I see you! I'm tired of doing everything on _your_ terms!" Ichigo shouted, warm brown eyes hard as stone as he turned to face Grimmjow again. Grimmjow opened his mouth to dispute Ichigo's words, but Ichigo stopped him with a pleading look, appearing to have lost all the fire he'd just had. "I'm not a toy," he whispered vehemently.

Grimmjow felt his jaw clenching as something entirely uncomfortable flared in his stomach and tightened his chest. For some reason, his insides were writhing at the look on Ichigo's face, and the red head's words had his heart pounding as it free-fell to his knees. What was this shit? Why did it feel like he gave a fuck?

"Look, Grimmjow," Ichigo continued with a sigh. "I get it, OK? I _get_ that you don' want anything personal. _I get that_. But...I'm not here for yer convenience, either. Ya can't just fuck me, disappear for three fuckin' months and then show up like nothin' ever happened. _You_ might not feel anything from that, but _I_ do and lemme tell ya: rejection sucks _hard_."

Grimmjow swallowed carefully, his heart beating so fast, it hurt, and his scowl so deep, it made his forehead muscles sore. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a ridiculously high cliff, looking down at a crashing ocean with jagged rocks poking out of its choppy surface. He'd never been this nervous and exhilarated in his life. It was a completely alien feeling and it made him jittery. His hands curled into fists against the wooden door as he stared down into shining, sable brown eyes. What was he supposed to do, now? Ichigo was totally unpredictable and it unnerved him in the worst way. He wanted to shrug off the smaller man's words, wanted to storm out of that apartment and never fucking look back...but he couldn't. His body was rooted to the plush, off-white carpet beneath his feet.

"So, what're ya sayin'?" he growled.

Ichigo pursed his lips and shrugged. "I just want somethin' more, but you can't give it to me."

A challenge. That's what that was. A blatant challenge, and Grimmjow had never backed down from one of those a day in his life. Why start now?

"Tell me," he grunted, heart sitting on his tongue.

"Tell you what? There's nothin' to-"

" _What the fuck do you want?_ " Grimmjow snapped, his words free from slang for a change.

Ichigo's full lips parted, his mouth opening and closing helplessly before his gaze hardened. "I want what my brother has. I want someone to _be_ with me. And not just for sex."

Grimmjow stared, his heart and stomach doing slow, languid flips. He was speechless. Why would Ichigo want _that_ from _him_? It wasn't like he'd given the impression of being boyfriend material. He was a stone-cold killer and he didn't trust anyone. What made Ichigo think he could ask that of him? As he watched Ichigo watching him, he gritted his teeth. Ichigo _hadn't_ asked that of him. He'd just stated what he wanted, not _who_ could give it to him. Stubborn brat.

Out of nowhere, another alien emotion gripped him from the inside out, making him grab a fistful of Ichigo's soft, bright orange hair. Ichigo's eyes went wide with fear, but he amazingly stood his ground. Grimmjow, on the other hand, seethed as he dealt with feeling jealousy for the first time ever.

" _Don't_ ," he growled. " _I won' let you_."

Ichigo frowned, confused. "Huh?"

Grimmjow swallowed his heart and tightened his hold in Ichigo's hair. What was happening to him? "You _can't_."

"Grimmjow, let me go. Yer hurtin' me-"

Grimmjow yanked Ichigo's head back and lowered his face to the other man's. He was baffled at the sick feeling lingering in his gut at the thought of Ichigo fucking someone other than him. He was breathing the same air as Ichigo, as well as feeling the man's warm breath on his cheek. Insanity. Grimmjow was going mad. Why the hell else was he enjoying the feel of Ichigo's rapid breaths? Why else was he enjoying the shorter man's warmth, his closeness, his scent?

He pulled back and met Ichigo's eyes, heat pooling in his groin and belly. Their lips were millimeters away. He didn't want this...did he? Ichigo didn't seem to have any such reservations because those eyes - those infuriatingly expressive eyes - softened as the red head seemed to really pay attention.

"I won't hurt you," Ichigo murmured, lifting his hand to Grimmjow's head.

Grimmjow stilled as Ichigo tossed his fitted to the side and ran long fingers through his unruly, blue hair. Why was his body so hot? Why did he feel like any slip in his will-power and he would be trembling uncontrollably? And did Ichigo know what he was saying? Why had he chosen _those_ particular words? Did he know something about Grimmjow's shameful past?

Grimmjow clenched his jaw almost helplessly. Remember that cliff he'd been talking about? Well, now he felt like he was tumbling over it, head-first. Ichigo's hand left Grimmjow's hair and gently trailed down the side of his face, where it stopped, cupping his cheek. It _burned_. It seemed like everywhere Ichigo touched caught fire and smoldered. Grimmjow was breathing too quickly and he knew his eyes were wild, more than likely making him look like a madman. Ichigo was too close.

"I'm gonna kiss you, now," Ichigo said quietly.

Grimmjow heard him. Hell, the words even registered, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Did he subconsciously _want_ Ichigo to kiss him? That couldn't be right. He lowered his free arm from the door, intending to push the red head away, but instead, his arm went around Ichigo's waist and tugged him closer. What the fuck was going on? Inwardly, he was panicking. His heart was going bananas, breathing had become extremely difficult, and his body wouldn't stop trembling. His palms were clammy and sweat had begun forming under his arms.

Was this... _fear?_

And then Ichigo kissed him.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow was shaking.

Ichigo couldn't believe it. The blue-haired asshole was actually trembling. His whole body wouldn't stop moving. Ichigo had to admit, he'd been totally confused when Grimmjow had suddenly appeared in his room, but when they'd started that familiar dance, Ichigo hadn't wanted to be bothered. Don't get him wrong; he loved fucking Grimmjow. He just couldn't afford being hit with that type of rejection again.

He'd been scared out of his mind, telling Grimmjow how he really felt, but it'd needed to be done. _Someone_ had to pull the taller man's head out of his ass. It had been hard. There was something about Grimmjow that just made Ichigo want to melt all over him. Maybe it was the cornflower blue of his eyes, or maybe it was the rumbling bass of his voice. It could even be that ridiculous body, especially that torso covered with sexy dark ink. But of course, there was Grimmjow's hair: bright blue and untamed, just like his personality. There was a lot that was distractingly gorgeous about the cold gang member, but Ichigo had been strong.

And then Grimmjow had scared and confused him. Ichigo had been close to panicking when the bigger man had grabbed a handful of his hair and started snarling and shaking even more. It had taken a minute for Ichigo to realize that Grimmjow wasn't about to kill him. When he had, it dawned on him that his words had deeply affected Grimmjow. Hence, the shaking and cryptic words.

Then, the impossible had occurred. Grimmjow had lowered his face next to Ichigo's, his lips dangerously close. Ichigo understood at that moment. In Grimmjow's mind, he wanted nothing to do with being closer to Ichigo, but apparently, his body disagreed. It was the only explanation Ichigo could come up with that made sense. For example, Grimmjow didn't like kissing because of its intimate aspect, and yet, he was bent close like that was precisely what he wanted. Since it was what Ichigo wanted too, he lifted his hand and rid Grimmjow of his fitted. After that, he ran his fingers through that soft, wild blue mane. Grimmjow's breathing picked up and became erratic.

What a power kick.

Ichigo had to stifle a smug grin at the sight of the hardened gangster turning into little more than a frightened teen. Ichigo let his hand travel down the side of Grimmjow's panic-stricken face before cupping the man's cheek. All joking aside, he'd imagined and dreamed of kissing this man so many times. Now that those enticingly full lips were within range, without the fear of being beat down or killed, Ichigo wanted to taste them.

Which is exactly what he did.

Grimmjow froze, his entire body stiffening even more than when Ichigo had removed the man's fitted. Grimmjow's lips were soft and warm. Ichigo sighed and pressed closer, adding a tiny bit more pressure. Grimmjow hadn't moved yet, so Ichigo pulled back to look at him. Those eyes were like blue and white fire as they stared down at him. They were hot and filled with something Ichigo hadn't seen since the night Grimmjow had kicked the shit out of that Blood. Drawn by the sight of such passion, Ichigo leaned forward and kissed Grimmjow again, this time running his fingers through that crazy blue hair. He closed his eyes and repeatedly pecked the gangster's lips, slowly getting frustrated with the lack of response. Ichigo whimpered. He was _so_ close.

The noise must've triggered something because Grimmjow jerked to life, the hand in Ichigo's hair tightening where it had slackened and the arm that had eased around Ichigo's waist turning into a steel bar. Grimmjow backed Ichigo into the door, his lips returning the pressure Ichigo was exerting. Ichigo quickly buried a gasp of excitement and threw his arms around Grimmjow's neck. _Finally!_ his mind cheered. Grimmjow's big hand left Ichigo's hair and settled on Ichigo's hip, and the arm around Ichigo's waist retreated, that hand resting on Ichigo's other hip.

Grimmjow surprised him. He opened his mouth and nipped Ichigo's bottom lip, which in turn, made Ichigo open his mouth. Warm, wet, soft, thick: all words Ichigo thought of as Grimmjow's tongue entered his mouth. Grimmjow tasted like strawberry Twizzlers and smoke, and _fuck_ , it had to be the best thing Ichigo had _ever_ tasted in his life. The taller man growled and shoved Ichigo against the door, but Ichigo didn't even mind. This was perfect. This was how things _should_ have gone a long time ago.

Their tongues twirled and danced, mapped and explored each other's mouths, while Grimmjow's lower body steadily ground against Ichigo's. The sensations were drowning Ichigo and he loved it. His heart was beating triple-time and he was already hard enough to knock out King Kong.

"Better...so much better," he groaned into Grimmjow's mouth.

Grimmjow backed him into the door again as he tried to get closer and all it did was make Ichigo moan. "Taste good," Grimmjow grunted, his hands going for Ichigo's belt.

Ichigo pulled out of the kiss and lowered his arms from Grimmjow's neck, his eyes glued to the man's beautiful, flushed face. This was purely amazing.

Grimmjow opened his eyes and frowned in confusion. "Ichigo-"

Ichigo interrupted Grimmjow by taking one of those large, calloused hands and stepping around him. He slowly tugged Grimmjow towards his bed, moving backwards until the backs of his legs hit the edge of it. There, he dropped Grimmjow's hand and stripped out of his clothing. Leisurely, so Grimmjow could enjoy it. Judging by the look on the blue-haired man's face, he was more than enjoying it.

Once Ichigo was completely naked, he frowned at Grimmjow's still completely dressed state. "Want me to do it for you?" he asked quietly.

Grimmjow's eyes pierced him like a sword. "Yeah. Touch me."

Ichigo had to hide a shudder at the intense tone of Grimmjow's deep voice. He sounded like he _needed_ Ichigo's hands on him, and Ichigo had no problem complying to a command like that. His chest felt like it was filling with bubbles as he closed the gap between his and Grimmjow's bodies, his hands immediately going for the navy-blue tee the man wore. He lifted the hem, his palms brushing lightly over Grimmjow's miraculous abdomen and pectorals. Grimmjow sighed almost silently as he lifted his arms and allowed Ichigo to pull the shirt over his head. Ichigo had to stand on his toes, but it was all good.

The shirt hit the floor with a muffled "fwump" and Ichigo took that time to carefully study and touch Grimmjow. His hands coasted over those firm pectorals where the word "Loyalty" was written in a large, blocky script. A rosary had been tattooed around his neck and Ichigo leaned forward, gently kissing the cross. He glanced up into Grimmjow's eyes and his breath caught. Grimmjow was watching him, face calm and breathing finally even and deep, like he was meditating. Ichigo gave a tentative smile, his hands still on the man's chest, and Grimmjow blinked, cornflower blue eyes tracking the curvature before lifting to meet Ichigo's gaze again. Ichigo lowered his eyes and went back to navigating the man's torso, his fingers sliding over the ridges of that glorious abdomen. Grimmjow had a tattoo of a sleeping dragon on his belly, smoke curling out of its nostrils and the long, spiked tail wrapping around his waist to his broad back. Ichigo dipped his head to read the words scripted along Grimmjow's ribs and under his arms, but a soft kiss to his brow distracted him. He looked up at Grimmjow, shocked, but Grimmjow's face was impassive, as if he hadn't even done it in the first place.

Ichigo smirked, but stood on his toes and placed a kiss at the corner of Grimmjow's mouth. Surprisingly, Grimmjow smirked back and turned his head to find Ichigo's lips, his arm going around Ichigo's waist as he drew him closer. The kiss seemed more languid and playful, but it still managed to curl Ichigo's toes. He was naked and hard and still had a blue-haired menace to finish undressing, so Ichigo reluctantly pulled out of the drugging kiss and went back to Grimmjow's body.

As he traversed the planes of hardened muscle and the dipping grooves etched between Grimmjow's pectorals and at his hips, he placed small, open-mouthed kisses here and there. Grimmjow would jump slightly whenever Ichigo went near the tattoos by his ribs and once Ichigo even caught a grin. He went to Grimmjow's jeans and hurriedly undid the man's belt, wanting to get rid of the clothes as quickly as possible. He'd seen enough of Grimmjow's tattoo-covered upper body for the moment, even though he wanted to ask questions about the tribal tattoo all over the man's back and even the B's with lines run through them that nestled on his arms. There were words and pictures all over those thickly corded arms and the words "Honor" and "Dignity" were inked on his neck.

Ichigo just thought it was completely sexy.

Going back to his task, he unbuttoned and unzipped Grimmjow's jeans, then tugged the denim down over those slim hips. They slid down long, muscular legs and pooled around big feet. Ichigo grinned in appreciation at the tent formed in Grimmjow's dark purple boxers. Before Ichigo's hands could go for the waistband, Grimmjow reached out a hand and touched Ichigo's chest.

Ichigo froze. He openly gaped at Grimmjow's curious fingers as they slowly rubbed over his pectorals, then down to his abdomen, where Grimmjow added his other hand to the trip. Grimmjow's hands were like fire, branding Ichigo's skin, his fingertips like little blowtorches. Grimmjow had never really touched him like this. He'd never taken the time to caress Ichigo's body and the new eruption of sensation almost made his knees buckle.

The rough pads of Grimmjow's fingers ghosted across Ichigo's sensitive nipples and made him hiss. "Ah, god," he gasped.

Grimmjow's lips came down over his almost urgently, a low growl escaping the man's chest as his hands pulled Ichigo in by the hips. Ichigo felt high and he hadn't even had a chance to smoke anything yet. It was just so _surreal_ , the feeling of Grimmjow touching him so carefully, Grimmjow _kissing_ him. The realization that _Grimmjow_ was kissing him slammed into Ichigo like a rampaging bull, making his back arch shamelessly and a loud, wanton moan echo over his music.

This was amazing, but bad. If Ichigo allowed himself to get caught up in this moment, he would be swept away. He would catch feelings for a man that only seemed to care about himself and if Ichigo was rejected after that, he would be crushed, mashed out like a cigarette, never to recover. But he couldn't help himself. Being handled so gently by a man like Grimmjow was a miracle in itself. Sure, Ichigo liked the aggressive way Grimmjow had dominated him before, but this change of pace had always seemed so far-fetched and impossible, Ichigo had never entertained the thought of it more than a couple of times. Now, to have it actually occur...

"Get on the bed, Ichigo," Grimmjow rumbled into his ear.

Ichigo blinked and came out of his thoughts, his body automatically moving. He climbed onto it, absently noticing that Grimmjow had removed his own underwear, his thick length bobbing excitedly. Ichigo climbed onto all fours, knowing that Grimmjow preferred having sex that way, only to once again be mind-blown.

"Turn around," Grimmjow grunted.

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder, confused. "What?"

"Turn around an' lay on yer back."

Grimmjow's voice was low and deliberate as he followed Ichigo onto the bed, but his eyes were blazing embers. When Ichigo didn't immediately move, his body paralyzed and stuck to the bed in shock, Grimmjow gripped his hips and turned his body to face him. He then pressed Ichigo down onto his back, opened Ichigo's legs and settled himself between them. They both moaned, Ichigo's a little more desperate. He'd _craved_ this. He'd always had a thing for the missionary position, for the closeness and intimacy it provided. Such a fuzzy feeling.

Grimmjow connected their lips again, this time assertively prying open Ichigo's mouth to slip his tongue inside. Ichigo wrapped his arms around Grimmjow's strong neck and sighed into the kiss. It was _so good_. So thoroughly satisfying. Ichigo's head was spinning, his heart stammering in his chest, and his blood rushing through his body like a current. He was thrilled, aroused and scared to death all at the same time. Grimmjow had tapped into his weakness flawlessly and now had the power to crush Ichigo's soul with his bare hands. On second thought, the reason Grimmjow _had_ been able to lock onto Ichigo's weakness was Ichigo's own fault. He'd practically given the blue-haired man the keys to his closet, so why was it surprising that Grimmjow had adapted so well?

Their erections rubbed together as Grimmjow rotated his hips and deepened the kiss. It was too much. Ichigo's hand plowed into Grimmjow's satiny hair, while the other ran down over a broad shoulder, down a thick bicep and down the side of a sturdy ribcage. Ichigo was on sensory overload, his body damned near trembling like Grimmjow's had not too long ago. And then Grimmjow pushed him that much closer towards madness by reaching between their locked bodies and wrapping a hand around both their erections, rubbing them together, the friction driving Ichigo absolutely wild.

"Oh my god," he groaned, pulling out of the kiss.

Grimmjow didn't even blink as he buried his face in Ichigo's neck and laved his pulse. Grimmjow suckled his Adam's Apple, his big hand still jerking them off, but his breathing catching every few seconds. Ichigo jerked spastically and covered his face with his arm, shamefully close to release. Grimmjow apparently didn't appreciate the hiding because he pulled Ichigo's arm away and stared down into his eyes.

For a moment, Grimmjow didn't say anything, but then he lifted one of Ichigo's hands and pressed it to his chest. "This is whatcha do ta me," he murmured thickly. "Feel that?"

Ichigo took a deep, calming breath, the swift, steady pace of Grimmjow's heartbeat threading pulsing beneath his hand. He wouldn't be carried away, he wouldn't. "Then why-"

Grimmjow cut him off with a kiss, his hand leaving their erections, where it traveled lower, fingertips brushing Ichigo's exposed entrance. Ichigo sighed. It was crazy how eagerly he anticipated Grimmjow being inside him again, even if he did know it was dangerous for his peace of mind. Hell, for his _sanity_. And with the way things were shaping up tonight, it was dangerous for his heart as well.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow inhaled the scent of the aroused orange-haired man underneath him and shuddered. It was a miracle that Ichigo was even under him to begin with, but something had come over Grimmjow. Ichigo had successfully made something inside of him crumble. Grimmjow tried not to suck his teeth in disgust as he lowered his face to Ichigo's for another addictive kiss.

He felt weak.

Ichigo still had his hand pressed to Grimmjow's chest, but his legs were cocked wide open, leaving his tight entrance exposed. The sounds coming from the smaller man were driving him slightly insane, but he needed this. He needed to get over that hitch in his life that had caused him to become incapable of trusting anyone. He needed to test his limits and find out whether Ichigo was the man that would help him change his mind. Grimmjow was still nervous, but he'd managed to calm down somewhat from his previous moment of panic.

Kissing Ichigo wasn't so bad. In fact, it was downright intensely arousing. Being on top of Ichigo was nice, too. Grimmjow had a feeling that had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have even entertained the thought of _kissing_ , let alone missionary. Which was why being with Ichigo was so dangerous, yet thrilling. The sex was banging and even just simply being around Ichigo made Grimmjow want to relax and let his guard down for a change.

He had to be careful. If he wasn't, it would be Aaroniero all over again and he wouldn't have that.

"Ya got somethin'?" he asked the smaller man.

Hazy brown eyes glanced up at him and nodded. "Wait a second."

Grimmjow watched as Ichigo lifted his torso and leaned over to a wooden night stand. He rifled through it and turned up a medium-sized bottle of lubricant. The label was green, the bottle itself an iridescent silver. Grimmjow didn't notice any specific scent advertisement and was grateful for it. Sometimes scent was OK, but most of the time, it tainted the natural scent of sex and turned it sour.

Ichigo rolled back into place under him, resting his upper body on his elbow as he handed Grimmjow the bottle. Then, Ichigo leaned forward and kissed him. It was soft and tender and it made Grimmjow shudder. He wasn't used to being affectionate anymore, but still, his body remembered how to react. He gently grasped the back of Ichigo's head and deepened the oral contact, his heart pounding noisily. Ichigo's breathing was fast, almost harsh and desperate as he tried to get their bodies closer together. Grimmjow chuckled as he pulled back.

"Easy," he rumbled.

Ichigo huffed and gave an impatient glare. "Fuck me," he whispered and if Grimmjow's dick hadn't already been hard as a cinder block, it certainly would have been at that lusty statement.

He chastely kissed Ichigo's lips before hovering over the other man's ear. "I will. Lay down."

Grimmjow grinned, satisfied at the way Ichigo's body shivered like a freezing wind had passed over it. Ichigo lay back and put his arms behind his head, his kiss-swollen lips curving into an impish grin. "I'm all yours, Mr. Bad-Ass."

Grimmjow's chest vibrated with laughter before he could stop it. His body warmed and heat flooded his gut and groin. It'd been so long since he'd had a chance to laugh with someone that wasn't Shinji, Starrk or Di Roy. It was...cool.

"Idiot," Grimmjow muttered before moving in and over Ichigo's body like a slithering snake.

He took his time touching the red head's smaller body, kissing those soft, full lips, licking and tweaking hardened nipples and nuzzling soft skin over firm, toned muscle. He could get used to this. Ichigo arched his back, his breath leaving him in a soft rush when Grimmjow lowered his mouth to apricot-hued pubic hairs. Grimmjow nosed the coarse hair and used his hand to ghost over Ichigo's straining length. It was leaking a little, pre-come beaded at the slit.

"Please. Please, Grimm, just-"

Grimmjow froze. No one called him that besides Shinji. He wouldn't allow it. Di called him by his street name, G and Starrk and the rest of the Crips called him by his full first name. Hearing his name shortened by Ichigo, that husky baritone wrapping around it like a silk scarf...

He hadn't sucked another man off since Aaroniero, but he wanted to taste Ichigo. Strangely, the thought of giving himself to the other man that way didn't disturb him the way he'd thought it would. Rather, it intrigued him and made him wonder what distinct flavor Ichigo's dick held.

Slowly, he pulled away from Ichigo's pubic hairs and gripped the base of Ichigo's perfectly textbook shaft. It wasn't too long, but not short at all and it wasn't as thick as his own, but also not too thin. Perfect. Grimmjow lowered his mouth and gave the head an experimental swipe with his tongue. Ichigo's essence exploded across his tastebuds, demanding Grimmjow seek more. So, he did. He covered the head with his mouth this time and gently suckled.

Ichigo gasped loudly, then groaned, his hips twitching as if he wanted to move them, but was too afraid to. Grimmjow figured Ichigo was probably just as shocked as he was to be on the receiving end of oral sex. After all, he'd never gone down on Ichigo before and before tonight, he'd never really planned to.

Grimmjow lowered his mouth even further, taking in more of the rigid flesh until he was nose to pelvis again, his heart quaking. He sucked firmly as he pulled back, only to lower his mouth faster the second time around. He settled into a steady rhythm that gradually increased along with the needy sounds coming from Ichigo.

"Oh, god, yes...ah! Hnn, so good. Ssss, shit," Ichigo hissed.

Grimmjow wanted to grin around the red head's swollen member, but instead held Ichigo's hips down and sucked harder...faster. A hand crept into his hair and tightened around the roots, but it didn't pull.

"Fuck," Ichigo whimpered. "I can't believe yer suckin' my dick."

Grimmjow chuckled at that. He'd been right. No doubt that realization made the sensation more intense, but he didn't want Ichigo to come just yet, which Grimmjow was sure was bound to happen very soon by the way Ichigo's length swelled and pulsed in his mouth. He pulled back, letting go of the musky flesh with a wet sound. Ichigo's shaft glistened and instead of feeling humiliation, Grimmjow felt pride.

He was getting so weak.

Ichigo panted and stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling dramatically. His eyes were glazed when he tipped his chin and peered down at Grimmjow, obviously frustrated.

"Wh-wha' happened?"

"I wanna fuck you now."

"O-oh," Ichigo stuttered. Then, he sucked his teeth and let his head drop back to the pillow. "Hurry up, asshole. I was 'bout to come."

Grimmjow gave a dark chortle as he slid over Ichigo's body again. "So bossy."

Ichigo grinned up at him before kissing Grimmjow's chin. "So? What're ya gonna do about it?"

Grimmjow arched an amused brow, but didn't respond. Instead, he let his actions speak for themselves. He spread Ichigo's legs and lifted them behind the thighs until the knees were draped over his shoulders. He leaned forward a little, raising Ichigo's hips from the bed and further exposing that little pink hole. Mouth nearly watering, he reached for the bottle that he'd set aside and popped the cap, squeezing a small amount of the clear liquid onto his fingers.

Ichigo's breathing had gone erratic, but his eyes were glued to Grimmjow's every move. Grimmjow took a deep breath and leisurely began preparing Ichigo's tight passage. Ichigo sucked in air urgently when Grimmjow traced his entrance with a slick fingertip before submerging the entire digit inside him. Ichigo's insides grabbed on and clung like lint. He was hot and so tight. Grimmjow growled, but calmed himself. He could feel excitement licking at him like flames, threatening to overturn the bit of control he managed to hold onto. He couldn't go all when-animals-attack on Ichigo like he normally did. Not if his hastily construed test was supposed to work.

After passing his finger in and out a few more times, Grimmjow added another. Ichigo moaned, his rough hands fisting the sheets at his sides. Then, he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and gyrated his hips, the movement sucking Grimmjow's fingers deeper inside.

"Damn," Grimmjow whispered to himself.

Ichigo gasped, his body shuddering and length weeping. "R-right there! Ohhh!"

Grimmjow gritted his teeth. This was the hard part about preparation: learning to be patient. Ichigo's legs trembled against Grimmjow's shoulders and his fingers twisted the sheets, his breathing coming in short huffs. God, Ichigo was hard. Grimmjow twisted his fingers before scissoring them, then he added the third.

"Ahhhhh," Ichigo moaned lavishly. "Mmmmmm!"

Grimmjow couldn't wait anymore. He would try his limits for patience another time because right now, he just wanted to plunge head-first into Ichigo's tight, welcoming hole. After thrusting his fingers with a little more force a few more times, he withdrew them and without thinking, slathered his length with lubricant. He leaned over Ichigo, who was watching him with sexy, half-lidded, syrup-brown eyes, and kissed him, thoroughly dominating.

Like a heat-seeking missile, Grimmjow's erection found Ichigo's entrance and penetrated. Ichigo's legs clamped around Grimmjow's neck and the red head's hands gripped Grimmjow's wrists to keep himself in place. Meanwhile, Grimmjow had to close his eyes and count to twenty just to calm himself down. His hips moved on their own accord, however, burying his raging arousal in Ichigo's tight depths.

He was braced on his arms, Ichigo's legs tightly wrapped around his neck and hips lifted off the bed. Grimmjow growled and pulled back, then surged forward, vision blanking from the intense waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, ya feel good. Mmm," he growled again.

Ichigo gave a breathy moan, his nails digging into Grimmjow's wrists. "Faster! Please!"

Grimmjow shut his mouth and moved. His hips picked up pace, his balls slapping against Ichigo's firm bottom, his heart rate soaring. It felt scarily good. Ichigo's insides hugged his erection close, stroking it with a velvety embrace. Even though Grimmjow could feel his walls steadily crumbling, he ignored it in favor of the heat gradually increasing in his groin and flushing his skin.

" _Fuck_ , yes!" Ichigo shouted.

Sweat broke out across his back and abdomen. It formed at his brow and along his upper lip. Shit. He leaned back and rested his weight on his knees, pulling Ichigo's ass into his lap as he went. He kept the smaller man's legs over his shoulders and gripped those slim hips as he resumed his previous pace. Ichigo spread his knees and locked his ankles together behind Grimmjow's neck, his mouth falling open and eyes rolling shut.

Ichigo made a noise that resembled a choked sob as his hand went for his own dick. Grimmjow watched as Ichigo stroked himself furiously in time to Grimmjow's thrusting hips. Fuck, that was a turn-on. Ichigo started warbling like a broken vinyl record, his head thrown back against the pillow, long neck straining and proudly displaying his pulsing jugular.

Ichigo was about to come. Grimmjow could see it by the way the head of his erection swelled and deepened to a dark crimson.

He sped up and added more force until he was pounding in and out of the smaller man. Their skin made the most erotic sounds as it came together again and again and Grimmjow was beginning to feel the start of his own orgasm building strongly. Then, Ichigo's insides tightened to the point of almost painful before releasing and spasming wildly. Grimmjow glanced down just in time to see Ichigo spurting ribbons of semen across his own belly and hand, his face pinched in pleasure and flushed with red as he cried out loudly and desperately.

Damn.

Grimmjow had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Not only did it turn him on and shove his orgasm forward, but it made his heart ache. Grimmjow leaned over Ichigo, bracing himself on his arms again. Ichigo's hips left the bed again, aiding Grimmjow's fervent thrusts as he pounded himself into release. His back tensed, as did his pelvis and abdomen, and his eyes squeezed shut as he came so hard, it felt like he'd yanked out his spine.

"Nnnnghh," he growled through clenched teeth.

His entire body buzzed and pulsed, electricity still shooting sparks along his nerves. His lungs felt flat as he tried to get air into them and his body had officially turned into rubber. Ichigo's legs still trembled on his shoulders, so Grimmjow opened his eyes and looked down at that stunning face. Ichigo's expression was satisfied, but kind of unreadable. Blank. The orange-haired man stared up at him silently, chest still heaving slightly, but eyes warm and calm.

Grimmjow leaned forward and kissed him, his heart thrashing wildly. This was the part he hated. Now what? Normally, he'd throw his clothes on and skedaddle, but he had a feeling his body wouldn't cooperate with him even if he'd wanted to. And that was the thing. He didn't _want_ to leave. Hell, it was already too late to leave without completely breaking Ichigo and for some reason, he didn't want that, either. Besides, his test was still in progress and he needed to see if he could try opening up to another person again.

Grimmjow eased out of the kiss and slowly lowered Ichigo's legs to the bed before gently pulling out of the smaller man. When he went to remove the condom, all the blood drained from his face as he stared down at his naked dick. How the fuck had he been so damned _careless_? He gritted his teeth painfully, his jaws clenched tightly together.

"Grimm, what's wrong?"

He snarled as he looked up and met Ichigo's eyes. "Don' call me that!"

Ichigo blanched, jerking like Grimmjow had slapped him. "I-"

Grimmjow climbed to the edge of the bed and stood, hastily gathering his clothes. He didn't see the look of wild panic in Ichigo's eyes, but he heard it in his tone. "Where are you going?"

Grimmjow didn't respond as he slipped into his boxers. He couldn't believe he'd just fucked Ichigo raw. Learning to get close to another man was one thing, hanging his life in the balance by his dick was another. He smacked his forehead angrily. _Stupid!_ he thought.

"Don't go!"

Ichigo's voice finally cut through his thoughts and made Grimmjow turn to face him. What he saw burned his anger to a crisp. Ichigo was huddled against the headboard, maple brown eyes wide and full of emotion, his lower body beneath the sheets.

"Please," he whispered, frowning.

Grimmjow grimaced and ran a hand through his disheveled blue hair. Breathe, calm down, think. It wasn't Ichigo's fault that he hadn't remembered to use a condom, so taking his anger out on the other man was...wrong. Grimmjow shook his head and stared down at his hands. This was so fucked up and all because he'd decided at the last second to give Ichigo a chance to prove himself. Fuck. What to do?

Ichigo eased out of the bed and hesitantly made his way over. Grimmjow watched him carefully, wary. When Ichigo finally made it in front of him, the sheet wrapped around his waist, he looked up at Grimmjow and it was obvious he was trying to hide the pleading look in his eyes.

"Stay with me. You don' have to leave all the time."

Grimmjow tried not to, but he felt himself get caught up in those mesmerizing brown eyes. Sighing deeply, he closed the small space between them and slowly put his arms around Ichigo. Ichigo lay his head on Grimmjow's chest and gave a deep exhale of relief. Grimmjow led him back to the bed and lay down, pulling Ichigo beside him.

"Go ta sleep," he grunted. "I'll be here."

Ichigo sighed and curled against Grimmjow's side. "Thank you."

**XxxxxxX**

Grimmjow jerked awake, heart racing and blood rushing in his ears. Where was he? He glanced around the darkened room, his eyes landing on the bright orange head beside him. What the fuck? Oh, yeah. He'd spent the night with Ichigo. So, what the hell had scared him awake like that?

A second later, a high trilling erupted from the floor near his jeans. Shaking his head, Grimmjow eased out of Ichigo's bed and padded over to his pants to answer his phone. It was one out of two people: Shinji or Starrk. Anyone else that happened to have his number didn't dare call his phone at this hour. He pulled the ringing device from his jeans pocket and tapped the screen, sighing when he read Starrk's name flashing.

"Yo, Big Homie," he greeted.

Starrk sighed and Grimmjow could imagine the man massaging his temples. "I need you at my place, Grimmjow. How soon can you get here?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "'Bout a half?"

"Good. See ya then."

The connection was severed, and Grimmjow was left standing in the middle of Ichigo's room, staring down at the small, black device. He hated to leave now, but duty called. He dressed quickly and quietly, then slowly trudged to the door. He paused when he reached it and looked back at Ichigo sprawled over the bed like an infant. Grimmjow groaned under his breath. He couldn't just leave like that.

He ambled over to Ichigo's tall dresser, searching the miscellaneous items piled on top for a piece of paper and a pen. Finally finding what he needed after nearly knocking everything to the floor in frustration, he scribbled out a hasty note.

_Ichigo,_

_I'll be back. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. You're mine, now._

_Grimm_

He read it over, his gut twisting uncomfortably at the possessive words. He was nervous about repeating his past, but figured Ichigo _had_ to be different. He placed the note next to the red head's pillow and stooped to leave a kiss on the sleeping man's lips.

 _Ichigo better be different_ , he thought as he left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo yawned luxuriously as he rolled over in bed, his eyes still closed as he reached for the warm body that _should_ have been beside him. When all he felt was the coolness of his sheets, his eyes snapped open and glanced around the dark room. His heart rate picked up as he sat up in a panic, knocking the pillow that should have been Grimmjow's to the floor. Eyes wild, he glanced around the room some more, wondering why Grimmjow wasn't next to him. Hadn't he said he was going to stay?

Ichigo climbed from the bed, tripping over his blanket and sheets. He stubbed his toe on the front bed post and cursed loudly, but nothing could keep him from his course. He hopped on one foot and grabbed his toe a second more, but finally managed to make his way out of the room. Ominous sign number one had been the lack of hot male in his bed, ominous sign number two had been the lack of clothes on the floor that didn't belong to him, and it appeared that ominous sign number three had just popped up. Ichigo stood in the living room, staring out the window, his heart on his tongue. Shinji's car was gone, but Shinji and Shiro were still asleep on the couch.

Ichigo's jaw clenched as he stared unseeing out the window. Had that whole episode been a joke, then? Had Grimmjow just said and acted the way Ichigo wanted him to, just to get what he wanted...and leave? Ichigo felt a panic attack coming on as he dragged himself back to his room, his heart pounding and temples throbbing. His chest ached as he swallowed the lump in his throat repeatedly. How could Grimmjow _do_ that to him?

 _I was stupid_ , he thought as he re-entered his room, closing the door softly behind himself. _I was so fucking stupid. I can't believe I fell for his shit again._

Ichigo flicked on his bedroom light and noticed the overturned pillow on the floor. Had he done that? He shook his head, trying to think of anything to keep himself from losing his mind, but it wasn't working. His chest felt like it was caving in, his heart tearing itself apart. Ichigo slowly made his way over to the pillow and grabbed it, lifting it from the floor. He pulled the soft material up to his nose and inhaled deeply, the scent of the dangerous gang member written all over it. His throat prickled and swelled as his eyes stung.

What the fuck.

Grimmjow was so cruel. To get his hopes up like that, only to leave like a cat burglar in the middle of the night. Things had seemed so promising, too! What the hell happened? Ichigo lowered himself to his bed, his nose stinging now as he stared down at the pillow in his hands.

"Fuckin' liar," he growled.

Ichigo didn't expect a reply, so he wasn't surprised at all when he didn't get one, but he was surprised to feel tears creeping down the sides of his face.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow pulled into the circular drive of Starrk's house, the brick exterior the color of sand. He parked Shinji's car and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to turn around and go back to Ichigo's apartment so he could climb under the covers and get the rest of his sleep. He'd been sleeping so peacefully, he hadn't even had a chance to dream. He didn't see his Pop getting high or his mom being fucked by complete strangers. All he'd felt was a thick blanket of silence and the oddly comfortable sensation of a warm body beside him.

Sighing again, he climbed out of the car and stared up at the front entrance that looked more like Greek columns and few stairs. It was huge, that was for sure, but it was funny because even though the house was so obviously lavish, no one dared intrude or attempt to break in. Starrk's house was like a fortress and had more technology protecting it than an army base.

On the stoop stood his family leader, a hand on his hip and the other braced against his forehead. His brown hair was disheveled like he'd just climbed out of bed, which looking at the hour, he probably had. Grimmjow stalked over to the stairs and slowly climbed them, taking in Starrk's haggard appearance. The man wore a loose pair of dark-gray sweats and a form-fitting white tee. His feet were bare and he just didn't look like the put-together man that he usually was.

"Wussup, Starrk?" Grimmjow asked as they performed the complicated handshake of their gang.

"Just a little trouble, Grimmjow. Nothin' too serious."

"Gotta be somethin' ta have you up at this hour."

Starrk gave a dry chuckle and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Right. Well, here's the thing. I need you to make a trip to retrieve a special package for me. You know I don't trust just anyone when it comes to things of that nature and this...package is very important to me."

Grimmjow studied his family leader, taking careful note of the stress lines around his gray eyes and the tired manner that was normally there, but more exaggerated this time. "Where am I goin'?" he grunted.

Starrk took a deep breath and met his eyes head on. "Cali."

Grimmjow's eyes widened as the news sunk in. Cali? Meaning California? That was hundreds of miles away (nothing a plane ride couldn't fix, of course) and it seemed like there was something more to the story anyway. Why had Starrk made such a face when he'd told Grimmjow where he would be going?

"What's this package I'm getting'?"

Starrk sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. Something wasn't right. Grimmjow had never seen his family leader this nervous. "Here's the deal, Grimmjow. I know I can trust you, so I'm sending you to get my daughter. Her name is Lilynette and she's thirteen years old. Her mother has been an idiot and now the Bloods over there know I'm her father. Stupid woman."

"So, wait," Grimmjow started, stunned. "Yer tellin' me ya got a kid across the country and now she's in danger, so ya need me ta go fetch her?"

"Somethin' like that."

"An' how long is this gonna take? Do I gotta fuck shit up while I'm over there?"

"Probably."

"Ya didn' say how long."

"Well, that's because it might take some time. I trust you to get my kid and bring her to me," Starrk said confidently.

Grimmjow nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets. This was bad. Instead of having his mind on the job, his thoughts were with the orange-haired man he would be leaving behind. Ichigo would think he'd lied to him. Then again, Grimmjow _had_ left him a note, and he could give Shinji the message that he had an emergency job to do that would take some time. Damn. Starrk had terrible timing.

"Alright, I'll do it."

XOXOXO

**Two Months Later**

Ichigo smiled into the mirror over the sink. "Shut up, Tatsuki."

"Dude, I'm jus' sayin'. Get yer ass over here; we're pissin' the neighbors off," Tatsuki's alto chuckled through the speaker of Ichigo's cell.

"I'm comin'! Sheesh, keep yer panties on."

"I don't wear panties, bitch. I wear boxers."

The connection was ended, leaving Ichigo chuckling as he wiped his face with a warm rag. After that, he threw on some face lotion before shutting off the bathroom light and grabbing his phone. He left the bathroom and stopped in the living room, rolling his eyes at his twin and Shinji. They were bickering in front of the TV like a married couple, Shiro with his hands on his hips and Shinji with his arms folded over his wiry chest.

"Yer not goin' ta some house party where I don' know nobody, Shirosaki."

Shiro jerked like Shinji had just hit him. "Why're ya so pissed? It's jus' gonna be all a'my friends!"

Shinji paused. "Ya sure?"

Shiro nodded, his arms lowering to his sides. "Yeah, ya know I ain't gonna lie ta ya."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and stepped into his room. He'd heard about enough. He knew his brother and Shinji well enough to know that that was where they would start kissing and pawing all over each other. Ichigo went to his dresser and plucked his blunt from his ash tray. He didn't have time for sappy shit and feelings. _Feelings_ , his brain spat like a wad of chewed up gum. Ichigo didn't even know what those were anymore thanks to a certain man that had crushed any semblance of emotion he may have had. Now, Ichigo lived in the fast lane. Drinking, smoking, fucking. He did it all and didn't give a shit where it left him.

Shiro worried and they got into numerous arguments about Ichigo's behavior, but Ichigo didn't care. _He_ didn't have a steady boyfriend that gave a shit where he went and what he did with himself. _He_ didn't have a warm body to come home to. He was nothing like his twin, who only months ago, Ichigo would have sworn was his other half. He'd been so wrong. Shiro couldn't relate to him anymore, so Ichigo wished he would just stop.

His cell started clamoring again, making him snatch it from his back pocket and glare at the screen. The name he saw made him roll his eyes with an amused grin. "Yo," he greeted.

"Where are you?"

Ichigo felt a chill rush down his back as that baritone voice washed over him. "I'm home, getting ready. Why? Where are you?"

The voice chuckled. "Gettin' some food. Gotta handle some business before I come play with you."

Ichigo grinned and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear as he lit up, smoke curling up in front of his face. "That's cool. I'm goin' out anyway."

"Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Nunna yer business."

"Aww. That ain't very nice, you know." Ichigo inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, letting his new friend's voice rumble in his ear. "Whatever, pretty boy. I'm goin' now. Answer your phone when I call you later."

"Don't I always?" Ichigo said, exhaling the smoke as he spoke.

"Heh. You better. Later."

The connection was severed and Ichigo lowered himself to his bed. He planned to get good and high before he left to go to Tatsuki's house party. He needed to unwind and get his mind in the right mood. Tatsuki had called him with the news that she was throwing a house party for her girlfriend's birthday. Yoruichi had protested, of course, but Tatsuki liked to spoil her. They were another in love couple that Ichigo found himself ignoring most of the time.

Now, his new friend, on the other hand, was perfect. He didn't ask for anything and he made it known clearly that he only wanted to have sex and nothing more. He didn't hide from Ichigo and he didn't expect any strings to be attached to what they had. Ichigo had met Ginjou at Loop, the man's devastating and dark good looks making him stand out in the crowd. Shiro had protested strongly against Ichigo talking to the guy because at the time Ginjou had been sporting a bright red hoodie, black jeans and red and white Chucks. Then there had been the red bandana hanging from his right back pocket, basically advertising his affiliation with the Bloods.

Ichigo hadn't cared. What did that mean to him anymore? Oh, Shiro's boyfriend was a Crip. And? That had nothing to do with Ichigo anymore and if it was a problem, then Shiro knew what he could do. Ichigo had told him several times where he could put that concern because Ichigo didn't want it. Honestly, he wanted nothing to do with anyone really, unless it was strictly on his terms.

Ichigo had approached the guy – not realizing that he'd been in the man's sights as well – and struck up a conversation. Ginjou had given his name and looked at Ichigo with those hazel eyes of his. They were intense but Ichigo wouldn't allow a pair of eyes to sway him anymore, so he'd taken the man's molten looks in stride. Ichigo had been the one to set up barriers at first, but Ginjou had been surprisingly complacent. The first time they'd had sex had been interesting to say the least. Ginjou wasn't as fierce as that other asshole, but he was pretty aggressive and had a thing about power apparently. Ichigo didn't mind giving the man the illusion that he was in control. It made things go much more smoothly and when it was time for Ginjou to pack up and leave afterward, no problems arose.

Ichigo finished the blunt between his fingers and let the roach smolder in his ashtray as he made his way back to his bedroom door. He threw it open and pocketed his phone before glaring over at his brother. Shiro and Shinji were kissing and pawing all over each other as Ichigo had predicted.

"Ay! You comin'? Or ya takin' Shinji's car?" Ichigo asked impatiently, toying with his car keys.

Shiro frowned at him and shook his head. "I'm takin' Shin's-"

"Aight. I'm out."

Ichigo left the apartment, disgusted and oblivious to the hurt look on Shiro's face. He fucking hated lovey dovey couples with a passion. His brother had gotten under his skin to the point where Ichigo had put a down payment on a new apartment. Ichigo figured moving out was the better option. Shit, that way he wouldn't have to deal with seeing his twin so fucking head over heels. That shit was for suckers.

Ichigo hopped in his car and cranked the engine, J. Cole coming through the speakers with a vengeance. "Work Out" was Ichigo's favorite song at the moment, so he raised the volume until the ground vibrated and his ears bled. He floated through the streets towards Tatsuki's apartment, head fuzzy, but he was good. He was never too fucked up to drive...ever. He knew it was "illegal" and "against the law", but he didn't give too much of a shit anyway.

Tatsuki's apartment building loomed ahead of him and Ichigo grinned, already anticipating the night of lechery he had planned. He couldn't wait to get some ice cold beer and smoke some more with Tatsuki. He wondered if Renji and Shuuhei would show up. They had been arguing lately, so maybe...

Ah, never mind.

The night was young and Ichigo had partying to do.

XOXOXO

"Stop."

"I'm not doin' anything," he said stubbornly, fighting the urge to wipe his eyes.

Shinji stepped closer and grabbed his shoulders. "Don' beat yerself up 'cuz yer brother's bein' a dumbass. Don' do it."

Shiro frowned and glared down at his sneakers, his chest being crushed by an invisible weight. He couldn't believe the one-eighty King had made concerning their relationship. He never would have thought that he would hold hostility towards his own fucking twin, but...there it was. King had been crushed by Grimmjow yet again, but somehow the effect had been much different. It seemed like King had snapped, not giving a shit about anything that he did anymore. Shiro noticed how King drank and smoked and had random guys over, on top of making the mistake of bringing a Blood to their home.

That had been scary as hell.

Shinji had been in the kitchen going through one of his domestic moods, when Shiro had walked through the door, followed by King, who was followed by that guy King had met at Loop. Shinji had looked up through the bar window and froze, his hands stilling over the sink. Shiro had tried to make eye contact with him and let him know that King had pretty much lost his mind, but it hadn't really worked all that well. Shinji had given King's visitor a serious mean mug until they'd disappeared behind King's bedroom door. The evil glare had then been directed at Shiro, which he hadn't felt was fair at all. He remembered that conversation like it was yesterday.

" _What. The. Fuck."_

_Shiro lowered his eyes and ran a hand through his ash-white hair nervously. What should he say to Shinji? Right now, he was coming up short, totally clueless as how to explain King's carelessness. Shinji crept from the kitchen, his gait slow and graceful, purposeful and scary as shit. Shiro had never really been scared of anything (except snakes, but that was a different story altogether), so when he took a step back from his boyfriend, it surprised him._

" _Ya heard me, right?" Shinji continued, lifting the shit-is-about-to-get-ugly hairs all over Shiro's body._

_Now Shiro understood why people feared Shinji. He had danger written all over him when he got serious like this. "I heard you. It ain't my fault, though. King wouldn' listen ta me when I told him not ta bring that guy home."_

_Shinji chuckled dryly, his honey-brown eyes hard and going to King's door. "That little shit."_

" _..."_

_Shinji walked over to King's door and raised his hand, obviously prepared to bang on it, but Shiro ran over and grabbed his arm before he could. Shinji shrugged him away roughly, his eyes unfamiliar and making Shiro worry. He'd never seen the blond look like that before._

" _Ya know I can' sleep wit' this motherfucker in the house, right? What the fuck was your brother thinkin'?" Shinji shouted and Shiro had to stifle a gasp._

_He'd never heard Shinji raise his voice in anger before. Excitement? Yes. Devilry? Yes. Straight up pissed? Never. It scared the hell out of him._

" _I don' know what the fuck is wrong wit' him!" he shouted back. "H-he won' listen ta shit I say ta him! He won' even look at me the way he used to!"_

_Shinji paused and studied Shiro's face. When he stepped closer and touched Shiro's cheek, it made him jump. He hadn't been expecting that. He'd been expecting Shinji to hit him or something. "I ain' mad atchu," Shinji said quietly._

_Shiro sniffed, only just realizing that tears were sitting in his eyes. Where the hell had they come from? Shinji wiped at them with the pad of his thumb, his eyes softening as he wrapped his free arm around Shiro's waist. Shiro recoiled and stepped out of the light embrace, gently pushing Shinji's hands away._

" _I ain' a girl," he snapped, wiping his own eyes._

_Shinji laughed and pulled Shiro back into his chest. "Yer actin' like one. Stay up wit' me on the couch an' I won' be mad anymore."_

_Shiro rolled his eyes, but leaned against the comfortable wall of Shinji's chest. "Whatever."_

That night, King had been locked in his room, music blasting until around four-thirty in the morning, when the door had finally opened and that dark-haired Blood had emerged, a smug grin plastered across his face. He'd fixed his hoodie and sauntered to the door as if there had been nothing wrong with his presence in the first place, but that hadn't been the worst part. At the door, he'd turned and looked right at Shinji with a wicked grin.

" _Nice seein' ya, Slim."_

Shiro had had to sit on his boyfriend just to keep the blond from leaping from the couch in an enraged fit.

After that night, things had drastically changed in the apartment. King turned cocky and started being completely disrespectful. He stayed out all hours of the night (not that that really mattered because he was grown, but what counted was that he no longer felt it necessary to tell Shiro where he was in case something happened to him), he brought home random guys, never minding the fact that it made Shinji nervous and wary, and King just got reckless with his smoking and drinking. It was scary and worried the hell out of Shiro. He felt like he no longer knew how to reach his twin.

Shiro swayed on his feet and stared into Shinji's serious eyes. Shinji was concerned about his well-being, but also pissed that King had begun acting like an ass. "This is yer friend's fault, ya know that, right?" Shiro asked quietly.

Shinji pursed his lips and nodded. "I don' know what ta say in Grimm's defense anymore."

"There ain't shit ya _can_ say!"

"Yeah. I know that too."

The silence that pressed in around them was deafening and made Shiro shift uncomfortably. That fucking Grimmjow had ruined his brother and now, Shiro didn't even know how to do damage control. King had officially blocked him out, making it hard to even look at him without feeling anger and hostility. And when King had informed Shiro that he would be moving out, it had hurt and angered him even more. He didn't understand what he'd done to make his twin, his other half, move out. It wasn't fair. Before they had met Shinji and Grimmjow, they had been closer than close and now, they were closer to being enemies than anything.

He missed his brother.

Shinji hugged him and kissed his forehead, murmuring something reassuring, but Shiro was a million miles away. He was trying to come up with a way of reaching King before he self-destructed.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow looked around for the short, blond girl and growled under his breath. She'd been a pain in his ass since he'd found her. Her mother had been worse, but easily persuaded when Grimmjow had finally lost his patience trying to reason with her. He'd drawn his Sig and told her ass to sit the fuck down on her couch. Breathe easy and let him take the kid where she would be safe, which was clearly to her father. The woman, Cirucci, had been completely insufferable until she'd seen Grimmjow's gun. She'd sat down hard on the couch and nodded, agreeing with anything he'd said after that.

It had taken Grimmjow a total of forty days to find them because the woman kept moving them from hotel to hotel, but he'd finally gotten a lock on them. The Bloods in the area had tried to jump froggy when he'd taken Lilynette into his custody, but he'd cleared that misunderstanding right up. After his encounter with one Shukuro Tsukishima, no one else had tried to approach him. He'd left that Tsukishima character in the hospital breathing through a tube and eating the same way. No one fucked with him and walked way from it without some serious battle scars.

"Grimmmmm-jooowwwww! You're taking too long!" a whining voice cut through the clamor of the airport.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth and stifled the urge to reach for his gun. Killing an innocent kid was wrong, no matter which way he looked at it. "Get yer ass over here," he growled.

Lilynette skipped over to him, her bright pink, ruffled skirt almost blinding Grimmjow and the white top she wore with it no better. On her feet were a run-down pair of pink, low-top Chucks and pale pink bobby socks. She clutched a small, rolling suitcase in one hand and a make-shift wand in the other. Grimmjow clenched his jaw and inwardly cursed.

Fucking Starrk.

"Where are we going, Grimmy?" she chirped.

She smelled like bubblegum.

"Don' fuckin' call me that."

Lilynette gasped. "I'm tellin' my dad you cursed at me."

Grimmjow snatched her suitcase and stalked towards the exit, his heart thumping slowly as he buried the urge to kill the kid following behind him. "Tell 'im," he grunted sourly.

"I will! And he'll get you! He'll get you really good and then what'll you do?"

"I'll think a'somethin'."

"No, you won't! My dad is gonna kick your ass!"

"HEY!" Grimmjow yelled, turning to glare at her. "Watch yer fuckin' mouth!"

"As _if_! It's _so_ not OK for you to curse, but not me."

"Look, kid. I'm grown. Yer not. Curse again and I'll make ya regret it."

"You can't do anything to me! I'll tell-"

"You'll tell yer daddy, I know. Tha's old news, but here's some breakin' news. I don' give a fuck. I ain' scared a'yer dad. I _respect_ him. Big difference, brat."

Lilynette folded her arms across her nonexistent chest and pouted as she thankfully shut her mouth. Grimmjow was close to pulling out his hair, or worse, shutting her trap for her, which was bad. Very bad. He reached into his pocket, but remembered at the last second that he'd lost his cell during his scuffle with Tsukishima. Damn. He'd wanted to tell Shinji that he was back from Cali. He had a bunch of things to do before he made his way back over to Ichigo's apartment, one of them being the kid behind him. He absolutely couldn't wait to drop her off. She must have inherited her mother's smart-ass mouth because Starrk was nothing like that. He was lazy as hell, though, and Lilynette had unfortunately picked that up from her gene pool too.

They left the airport and headed out to the parking lot, where he'd left his Acura. Luckily he had enough money to pay the sure to be ridiculous parking fee. "Go wait by that blue car," he ordered the young girl dragging her feet behind him.

"And what if I don't?" she snapped with a roll of her fuschia-colored eyes.

Grimmjow paused his stride towards the parking attendant's booth and slowly glanced over his shoulder. "Little girl-"

"I ain't little, _Grimmy_!"

He snapped. Grimmjow whipped around and stalked up to the girl in two long steps. At the last second, he remembered that he was dealing with an adolescent girl and stopped himself from grabbing her skinny little neck.

"You don' know how close ya are ta me kickin' yer scrawny little ass, kid," he growled, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"You. Can't. Do. Anything," she enunciated.

Grimmjow stared for a beat before chortling under his breath. "I hate you," he whispered vehemently.

He'd never been so close to killing someone without actually doing so in his life and it upset him greatly. Kids were hell's little minions and he had the proof right before his eyes. Just as he was turning to stomp (gracefully, mind you) to the parking attendant's booth, a delicate hand on his arm stopped him. He glanced down and was startled to see Lilynette smiling up at him, her eyelashes batting madly.

Hell no.

This wasn't happening.

"Grimmy," she started. "You don't really hate me, do you?"

Grimmjow frowned, confused. No, he really did. He hated her the moment she started using Starrk to her advantage and pestering the fuck out of him. He had been near tears on the plane when all she had done was talk shit and keep him awake during their flight. Never before had he wished more for an mp3 player and some headphones.

"No, I do, though," he said in all seriousness.

"No way! My mom said when a guy argues with you, it means he really likes you. You like me."

Grimmjow stared blankly, not completely comprehending. "What?"

"You like me," she repeated slowly.

Grimmjow cracked up. He bent at the waist, tears coming to his eyes and everything. This was impossible. No, this was positively ludicrous. How did this brat go from making him grow gray hairs at his temples, to claiming that he _liked_ her?

"Yer nuts," he stated and turned on his heel, making his way away from the crazy kid as fast as he could while maintaining his dignity.

He did _not_ run.

She followed him, her steps angry and her bottom lip poked out. "I am _not_ nuts. You like me! Just admit it!"

"Look!" Grimmjow started, whirling on his heel to face her again. "Yer a kid, number one. Number two, I-"

He stopped talking, wondering how exactly he was supposed to tell a little kid that he was gay and didn't like girls of any shape, size, color, or age? She stared up at him curiously, those strange eyes glittering. Then, she grinned smugly as if she'd found the cure to cancer.

"Ohh, I get it." Grimmjow frowned, positive that she _didn't_ get it, but waited for her to speak anyway. "You're shy!"

Grimmjow sucked his teeth and walked away. He'd had enough. Now was definitely the time to get this kid to her father. He didn't think he could take much more torture at the moment. Lilynette followed behind him, chattering excitedly.

"No, wait! You are, aren't you, Grimmjow?" she asked, using his given name for the first time since they'd left California. "But that's OK! I _totally_ understand! I mean, I _should_ have guessed when you didn't really wanna talk before, but I get it now!"

Grimmjow tuned her out and continued to the booth, mind set on getting Lilynette to her father before she managed to successfully drive Grimmjow up the wall. The attendant stared at him from behind the screen partition, popping gum loudly. His aqua eyes were intense, but his blond hair kind of lessened the effect.

"Acura RSX. Blue. Been here for two months," Grimmjow grunted as he dug in his pocket for the slip he'd kept in his wallet.

"Got your slip?" the guy asked.

Grimmjow nodded and unfolded the tiny, yellow scrap of paper before handing it through the small space under the screen. Lilynette put her hand on Grimmjow's elbow again, her eyes wide and beseeching. "Do you have a girlfriend, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow froze and met the amused gaze of the attendant, whose name tag read Kira. Kira blew a bubble and grinned as he typed something into the computer in front of him. He avoided Grimmjow's eyes, but the smile on his face clearly screamed his fight with keeping his laughter at bay. Grimmjow slowly turned his head and glanced down at Lilynette.

"No. I don' want one, either. Ever."

Lilynette gave a wolfish grin. "Nonsense," she cooed. "Every guy wants a girlfriend."

"That ain't true 'cuz I don't."

"Well, _I_ said you do."

"An' what ya say goes, huh?" Grimmjow asked sarcastically.

"Of course! Anyway, you should let me be your girlfriend, Grimmjow. I'm a _really_ good cook and my mom taught me how to do laundry without bleaching the colored things."

Grimmjow couldn't keep the laugh in his chest. It burst free, surprising himself and Kira, who glanced up in surprise, his face turning red as he stared at Grimmjow. Didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Kira was attracted to him. Too bad for Kira, though. And Lilynette, now that he thought about it. Grimmjow already had someone on his mind and there was no room for any outsiders.

Speaking of which, he wondered what Ichigo had been up to these past two months. He hoped the orange-haired man wasn't mad at him for leaving so abruptly. Then again, he'd left that note, so Ichigo should have understood. Not to mention, he'd left a text for Shinji letting him know he was leaving the state for a bit. He hadn't been able to say why exactly for security purposes, but he was sure Shinji would have given Ichigo his message.

"Here you go, Sir. The package deal makes your total five hundred dollars."

Grimmjow nodded and peeled off five crisp hundred dollar bills from his wallet. Lilynette's eyes got wide and she clung to Grimmjow's side like a tree frog.

"You're rich," she squeaked. "I've never seen that much money at one time in my life."

Grimmjow sighed. He was tired, a lot annoyed and even more horny. He'd hated admitting it, but he'd missed Ichigo. He couldn't wait to see him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The familiar sight of pillars and stone stairs raised Grimmjow's spirits and made him want to dance in his seat. He glanced at Lilynette from the corner of his eye and smirked. He would finally be rid of the teenaged hell cat. He could already taste his freedom.

He pulled his Acura into Starrk's circular drive and parked, the engine cutting peacefully. He hopped out of the car like his ass was on fire and went to the trunk, anxious to dump the blond girl on her father, where she was supposed to be.

"Grimmy! You're not a gentleman at all! Why didn't you open my door for me?" Lilynette screeched from inside the car, her high voice audible even from outside.

He rolled his eyes and popped the trunk, withdrawing two ridiculously girly suitcases. He set them on the ground and slammed the hood, his nerves fraying when the girl stepped out of the car in a huff. She straightened her skirt angrily, her fuschia eyes glittering with something Grimmjow just didn't want to be bothered with at the moment. Luckily for him, Starrk decided to emerge from the house, standing at the top of those stone stairs, his thick arms folded across his chest.

"Oi! Get over here!" he called to Lilynette.

Grimmjow's shoulders involuntarily sagged with relief. _Thank God_ , he thought. He dragged Lilynette's luggage behind her as she made her way towards her father, her walk stiff and intimidated. Oh? Where was the cocky little brat he'd been dealing with right before Starrk had appeared? Lilynette stood before her father, her expression sheepish as she twirled a lock of her pale blond hair.

"Hi, Daddy," she whispered.

If Grimmjow hadn't been gifted with extreme control (most of the time, anyway), he would have let his mouth drop open in shock. What the fuck was going on here?

"Hey, Lily. I hear your mom's been givin' you a hard time."

"It's just..." Lilynette's voice trailed off as she fidgeted, apparently too afraid to meet her father's cold gray eyes.

"We'll talk about it later. Let me have a chat with my friend here, alright?" Starrk asked calmly.

Lilynette turned fiery eyes in Grimmjow's direction, her lips twitching and quirking as if she wanted to say something, but only refrained because she was in front of the warden: Starrk. "OK."

With that, she disappeared into the house. Humbly, even. Grimmjow stared in disbelief, ignoring the amused gaze of his family leader. Who the hell was that that had just walked into the house with the air of an obedient child? Surely not the little annoying kid that had driven Grimmjow close to insanity a while ago.

Grimmjow went up the stairs slowly and handed off Lilynette's stuff, his face twisted in confusion. Then he frowned and glared at Starrk. "I hate yer kid." Starrk stared for a beat before a loud guffaw erupted from his chest. Grimmjow honestly didn't see the joke. He was dead serious. "I'm serious," he growled.

"Yeah," Starrk gasped between chuckles. "I know. That's why it's so funny."

"Ya knew she was evil when ya sent me to get her, didn't ya?"

"Sort of. She has her mother's personality."

"No kiddin'."

"But seriously," Starrk said somberly. "Thank you. I appreciate you going to get her for me."

Grimmjow adjusted his fitted and turned away from his family leader to hide the discomfort creeping over his face. "Yeah."

Starrk shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark gray sweatpants and smiled lazily before shifting his weight. "You can take the next few weeks off if ya want. I won't ask you to do anything for a while. Take a vacation, get laid, you know. Whatever it is that you like to do when you're not workin'."

Grimmjow grinned, his mind already making plans. "Yeah," he repeated. "Thanks."

Starrk nodded and gave him a two-fingered salute before turning and going into the house, the door easing shut behind him. Grimmjow stood on the stairs a while longer, his head tilted back as he studied the pale blue sky. It was a nice afternoon, but his thoughts were far from the weather. He blew out a deep breath and went back to his car, starting the souped-up engine before floating away. He wanted to stop at his apartment, then and change clothes before he went looking for the man he'd been craving since he'd left for California.

XOXOXO

Shinji flicked open his pocket knife, then flicked it shut, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk as he sat on the couch in Shiro's living room. His heart was hammering, but he wouldn't show his displeasure on his face. He had his feet kicked up on the coffee table and his boyfriend seated beside him. You'd think he would be satisfied with that arrangement, but he was anything but. Shiro's brother, Ichigo, had officially lost his fucking mind and was currently holed up in his bedroom with Ginjou of all people. Shinji snarled silently just thinking about the dark-haired Blood.

Shinji figured either Ichigo had forgotten about their little skirmish with a couple of Bloods a while back, or he just didn't give a shit, which was equally dangerous. Didn't Orange realize that letting a Blood into the house, even if he wasn't dealing with Grimmjow anymore, was foolish? Ichigo could get them all killed if he wasn't careful.

Shiro shifted on the couch, turning to face Shinji, those golden irises aflame, but the signs of wear and tear evident underneath his eyes. "Maybe it's better if King moves out, dontcha think?"

Shinji averted his gaze, Shiro's tone breaking his heart. He hated hearing his boyfriend (it was strange thinking of the albino as such, but Shinji wouldn't deny the truth) so depressed and upset. "He's trippin'."

Shiro sighed and toyed with his fingers, his legs crossed Indian style underneath him. "I know. Ya wanna go out an' get some food er somethin'?"

"Fuck no! Ain' no tellin' what the fuck would be in here when we got back."

"I hate this."

Shinji turned back to Shiro and grimaced. Shiro didn't deserve the cold shoulder Ichigo was giving him. It wasn't the albino's fault that Grimmjow had fucked with Ichigo's head yet again, turning him into some emotionless asshole. Funny how that worked. It was like Grimmjow had inadvertently created a carbon copy of himself in Ichigo, except it wasn't amusing in the least bit. Shinji had tried to ignore the orange-haired man's reckless behavior, but Ichigo had crossed the line when he'd brought Ginjou to the apartment.

Suddenly, Shiro surged to his feet and stormed over to Ichigo's bedroom door before Shinji could even really register what he was doing. Ichigo had his music blasting like usual, but Shiro put his foot to the door as well as both fists and banged like the police on a drug raid.

"KING!" he shouted, his tenor warbling and unstable.

Shinji climbed to his feet and clutched his knife just in case Ginjou decided he didn't want to play nice anymore. He made his way over to his distressed boyfriend, slowly allowing a hand to fall on the man's shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Shiro shrugged his hand away, angry tears sliding down his cheeks. "KING!" he yelled again.

Shinji felt like someone was stabbing him in the heart. This was ridiculous. Shiro and Ichigo had been so close when everyone had first met, so for them to have drifted so far apart was stupid. Shinji felt uncomfortably helpless in this situation. He wished Grimmjow hadn't hurt Ichigo the way he had. Ichigo was perfect for his best friend and if only Grimmjow hadn't been too blind and stubborn to see that, he would have found a good thing. Someone to maybe calm his demons and give him some sort of stability. No. Grimmjow wanted to be the cold, heartless gangster he was and shun the only person that would probably treat him the way he needed to be treated.

Grimmjow hadn't even bothered to let Shinji know that he'd left, let alone where he'd gone and Shinji hadn't heard from his blue-haired best friend in two months. To say he was pissed was a bit of an understatement. He honestly wanted to fight Grimmjow barehanded, even though he knew he would probably lose in the long run. Grimmjow was fucking big and strong as shit for someone that got high on a daily basis. Shinji was lucky to have fallen on the good side of the dangerous man, but he knew that if he ever crossed swords with Grimmjow, he would be cut down like dead grass. He wasn't undermining his own strength, either. He was just admitting the facts.

Shinji frowned. He wondered why Grimmjow hadn't bothered to contact him or anything before disappearing to God knows where. It wasn't like him, which was probably why Shinji held so much contempt for his own best friend at the moment. Where the hell could Grimmjow be? What the fuck was he up to?

"KING!" Shiro's distressed shout interrupted Shinji's thoughts, bringing him crashing back to reality. Shiro was still banging on the door, his tears getting more insistent. "OPEN THIS FUCKIN' DOOR!"

Shinji was just about to wrap his arms around Shiro's waist to drag him away from Ichigo's door, when it was snatched open. Ichigo stood on the threshold wearing a pair of dark-blue boxers. His bright orange hair was standing up, his face flushed and his eyes furious. His upper lip was curled back into a disgusted sneer as he regarded his own twin with what Shinji could only describe as loathing. The look did nasty things to Shinji's composure. It made him want to wrap his hands around Ichigo's neck and squeeze the life out of him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ichigo growled, his normally warm brown eyes locked onto Shiro and cold as ice.

Shiro's jaw clenched, unclenched, then clenched again. "That's my line," he snapped.

Ichigo stared for a few seconds before tilting his head back and laughing. He sounded like a maniac. "What is this? What're you gonna do?"

Before Shiro could lunge, Shinji had his arms wrapped firmly around his torso, keeping him in place. Shiro writhed like a snake, his wiry body hard to hold onto in its frenzy. Shinji glared at Ichigo, too angry to think straight.

"I can' believe yer treatin' yer brother like this."

Ichigo arched a brow and braced a hand against his bedroom door frame. "I wouldn't if he wasn't so fuckin' lame."

Shinji almost lost his temper. "Ya need ta watch yer mouth."

Ichigo sneered and opened his mouth to speak, but Shiro used that time to twist out of Shinji's grasp and plant his fist in Ichigo's face. Shinji was too shocked to move as he watched his boyfriend tear into his own brother like he didn't even know him. And Shinji didn't blame him one bit. Hell, he'd been two seconds from doing the same thing. Shiro didn't let up after punching Ichigo in the face, immediately causing the orange-haired man's lip to split. Instead, he followed Ichigo's stumble into his bedroom, hitting with a left-right combination that put the other man on his ass. Ichigo fell and stared up at his brother in astonishment, eyes wide as he held his face.

Shinji almost felt bad for him as he saw Ichigo's expression soften as if he'd just realized how much of an ass he'd been. But he didn't. Ichigo needed a wake-up call and Shiro was just the person to do it. Shit needed to hit the fan for Ichigo to see that he'd been a colossal ass and his behavior was just unacceptable.

"Sh-Shiro," Ichigo breathed.

"FUCK YOU!" Shiro bellowed. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, standing over Ichigo the whole while. "WHO ARE YOU? HUH?"

"What?" Ichigo asked.

"YOU HEARD ME!"

"Stop screaming. You're so noisy."

"YOU PIECE A'SHIT! I'LL-"

Shinji decided now was a good time to step in as he grabbed Shiro before the albino could start attacking his brother again. He didn't want his boyfriend to go to jail for murder. He yanked his thrashing lover away and hauled him back into the living room, just as Ginjou stepped past Ichigo and headed for the door. He had on a pair of gray jeans and a white tee as he made his way out. When he reached the apartment door, he glanced back at everyone and smiled.

"Heh. Too much action for me."

Shinji gritted his teeth and maintained his grip on Shiro, studiously ignoring the arrogant man in the doorway. Ginjou finally left and Shinji sighed, his hand automatically rubbing Shiro's back in a soothing motion. "Calm down," he muttered.

Shiro seemed deaf to his voice and it pissed him off.

Everything was pissing Shinji off that night.

XOXOXO

Ichigo sat on his bedroom floor, wondering why he was there in the first place. He knew, of course; he just wondered why he hadn't expected Shiro to blow up at him before. Not that he would have cared in his state, but still...the feeling left him disconcerted and a little off balance. His head was still reeling from all the beer and weed he'd consumed that night at Tatsuki's party, so when he tried to sit up, it made his head swim.

Shinji and Shiro had thrown Ichigo for a loop with their aggressive behavior. Normally, they just relaxed on the couch whenever Ichigo had company, but for some reason, tonight, Shiro had been fired up and rearing for a fight. Ichigo hadn't seen his twin like that since high school and it made him wary of the albino. Not that he was afraid; he just didn't want things to get out of hand before he moved out.

Ichigo had seen Ginjou leaving and it made his stomach flip. They'd been in the middle of handling their nightly business when Shiro had interrupted them. Ichigo was still horny and didn't want to see Ginjou leave before he had a chance to get off. How disappointing would that be? He struggled to his feet and swayed a bit before making his way out of his room. Shiro was on the couch with Shinji, Shinji seeming to hold him in place with his body. Ichigo snorted under his breath at the sight and kept heading for the door, his head spinning. He held his hand up to his temple to keep himself steady as he followed behind Ginjou down the stairs. He couldn't have gotten that far; Ichigo had just seen him leave.

He almost face-planted as he stepped off the last few stairs, but managed to catch himself in time. He threw the second door open and immediately stopped. Ginjou was on the front porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette as he studied the night sky. Ginjou slowly turned to face Ichigo, his face splitting into a wide, carefree grin.

"Figured you'd be comin' down here," he said.

Ichigo nodded. "You didn't have to leave because of that."

"Yeah, well, I ain't one for all the personal drama. Got some sibling rivalry goin' on, Pretty Boy?"

"Nah. Shiro's just pissy because I'm movin' out."

Ginjou arched a brow and took a pull from his cigarette. "That so? Hn."

"Look," Ichigo began, edging his way towards Ginjou. "Why don't you come back upstairs and we can finish what we started."

Ichigo had his hands twisted in the front of Ginjou's tee as he stared up at him. Ginjou leaned close and put their noses together before shaking his head, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Nah. Get some sleep, Pretty Boy. Yer buzzed. I'll be back tomorrow."

Ichigo huffed and took a step back. Great. Now his night was ruined and he would be forced to go to bed horny. Sighing, he watched Ginjou saunter from the porch, flick his spent cigarette away and hop into his red, old school Chevy Camaro. The engine roared to life and the vehicle peeled away from the curb with a loud screech of rubber.

Ichigo wasn't quite ready to hit the sack, so he lowered himself to the top step and stared up at the sky. It was inky black, but lit by the half moon and sparkling stars that dotted it here and there. There were a few clouds and Ichigo could smell rain coming. He loved the rain. It calmed him for some reason, plus, he just loved the smell of it. He tipped his head back and smiled to himself. He remembered playing in the rain with Shiro when they had been younger, outside until their fingers pruned and their clothes had been drenched through. Their old man had scolded them for it, but had been unable to keep them from repeatedly doing it. Nostalgia and a sick feeling of regret rolled around in his gut before he registered the sound of slow footsteps. The grass on the front lawn shifted quietly, like a cat was passing through it.

Ichigo glanced up and everything suddenly stopped. The breeze stopped rustling his hair, his blood turned to ice and his mouth fell open very slowly and dramatically.

"Should I kill ya now er after I get some answers?"

Grimmjow?

XOXOXO

Grimmjow pulled onto Ichigo's block, his brow pulling into a scowl as he realized there were really no parking spaces left, unless he parked half-way down the street. Sighing to himself, he pulled into an empty space about three houses down from Ichigo's apartment and cut the engine to his Acura. His heart rate involuntarily picked up at the thought of seeing Ichigo again. Those warm brown eyes, that bright orange hair. Grimmjow smirked. That wide, carefree grin. Grimmjow's smirk morphed into a frown. He still wasn't used to the idea of being so taken with Ichigo and actually allowing himself to open up to the younger man.

However, even though it made him uncomfortable, when he thought about that last night he'd shared with Ichigo, all of his insecurities and doubts drained away. He felt like with Ichigo, starting over and maybe finding a middle ground was possible. He had just reached for the door handle when the front door to Ichigo's house opened. Grimmjow grinned, thinking perhaps it was Shinji and Shiro, or maybe even Ichigo himself. Wouldn't that be a treat. Instead, who he saw made the grin vanish from his face and caused his heart to freeze in his chest.

Ginjou?

What the fuck was that prick doing at Ichigo's house? Had something happened?

Grimmjow reached behind his back for his Sig and started to leave his car again, his blue eyes glued to the dark-haired man smoking casually on a porch he didn't belong on, when someone else appeared outside. Grimmjow felt the precise moment his heart cracked and exploded. He watched, dumbstruck as Ichigo – his Ichigo – stepped onto the porch and approached Ginjou, body movements lusty and sultry. When Ichigo put his hands on Ginjou's chest and Ginjou leaned forward to more than likely kiss Ichigo, Grimmjow turned away, throat tight and teeth grinding painfully.

 _Liar!_ his conscience screamed. _That fucking lying little bitch!_

Grimmjow couldn't really feel his own body anymore. Everything had gone cold, his extremities numb. Was this Ichigo's idea of a joke? It was a bad one. A really fucking bad one. Playing with Grimmjow's enemies could never be considered a joke, in his opinion. In fact, it usually ended in death. He turned back reluctantly and watched with emotionless eyes as Ginjou left, his bright red Camaro leaving dust behind it.

His heart pounded ruthlessly, his hands had gone clammy, but his eyes remained cold, heartless, dead. He couldn't really feel anything at the moment. Except anger. Oh, anger sat on his chest and poked him in the nose harshly, making fun of his vulnerability. Ichigo had stripped him of his guards, left his heart wide open, just to step on it. Crush it underfoot, then spit on it.

Grimmjow snarled, the sight scary even to himself when he glanced in the rear view mirror. He'd known better than to trust anyone. He'd known! But still, he'd allowed himself to relax around Ichigo, he'd given up a part of himself that he hadn't even had on the market for a long time. He-

SHIT!

Grimmjow left his Acura, not even bothering to lock it as he made his way to Ichigo's apartment. The orange-haired man was seated on the porch, his head tilted up towards the sky and a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He was probably thinking about his new boyfriend. Grimmjow reached behind his back and withdrew his gun. He'd kill Ichigo. He'd kill anyone before he let them make a fool of him, and Ichigo had done just that with his lies and promises.

" _I won't hurt you."_

The words echoed in Grimmjow's mind like a clanging church bell. "Liar," he mumbled to himself. "Nothin' but a liar."

Ichigo didn't even hear him coming as he sat blissfully unaware, his mind still with Ginjou, no doubt. Grimmjow finally made it past the bushes that surrounded the lawn of Ichigo's house and walked directly up to the porch. He didn't hide his presence, he didn't muffle his steps, and still Ichigo sat oblivious to him. Grimmjow was seething by now, his eyes nearly bleeding, he was so pissed. He wanted to strangle Ichigo with his bare hands. How could the little asshole do something like that to him? Purposely spit in his face? Purposely disregard everything that had happened between them? Grimmjow choked quietly as he reined in his ire. He wouldn't lose his composure here. Not now. Not in front of Ichigo.

Finally, Ichigo looked up and his face paled as he stiffened into a statue.

"Should I kill ya now er after I get some answers?" Grimmjow growled, his voice a low, throaty rumble.

Ichigo's eyes went wide as he stared. Then those brown eyes Grimmjow had fallen for narrowed and hardened. "Why the fuck are you here?"

A muscle in Grimmjow's jaw twitched. This...guy. Ichigo had balls of steel to talk to Grimmjow like that after what he'd done. "Ya know," Grimmjow chuckled softly. "I've been askin' myself the same fuckin' thing since I parked my car."

"Then leave. I didn't ask you to come here."

Grimmjow's eyes whipped up from the ground to focus carefully on Ichigo's face. There was a lot of hostility in Ichigo's voice and Grimmjow just didn't understand it. Why the fuck was Ichigo so mad? Hadn't he gotten the note? Hadn't he gotten Shinji's message? Grimmjow ran a frustrated hand over his face, absently knocking his fitted askew. His eyes were wide and confused. What the hell was going on? The Ichigo he remembered wouldn't do the shit Grimmjow had seen with his own eyes a few minutes ago. The Ichigo he remembered wouldn't fuck with Grimmjow's enemy. He wouldn't disregard something as important as what they'd shared.

A huff escaped him before he could leash it. "Leave?" he muttered.

"Leave! I don't need someone like you in my life."

The words stung like acid. Like pure rubbing alcohol over an open wound. Grimmjow refused to show it, though. This Ichigo was calm, collected, angry and callous. He wasn't the same Ichigo Grimmjow remembered. This Ichigo was very capable of fucking someone that Grimmjow was enemies with. He seemed very capable of exacting some sort of twisted revenge on Grimmjow in this type of manner. Wait until Grimmjow finally opened up, only to screw him over. Revenge was best served cold, after all.

The realization that Ichigo had played him so harshly overwhelmed Grimmjow and made him grip the handle of his gun tightly. His nose twitched as he fought not to scream. It wasn't really working. He'd fucked Ichigo without a condom. That could mean this whole situation could be spiraling downhill just like the one with Aaroniero. Grimmjow grimaced, his heart beating too fast for him to keep up with. He barely registered Ichigo climbing to his feet because as Ichigo rose, he fell. Grimmjow went to his knees, his eyes wide and distant as memories and flashbacks bombarded him mercilessly, taking him back to that shameful period in his life.

He squeezed his eyes shut, voices ringing in his head as he put both hands on either side of it. "Stop," he growled.

"Stop what?" Ichigo snapped, his voice cold.

Grimmjow winced as the voices got louder. He'd been in such a rush to see Ichigo, he hadn't bothered to indulge in his daily intake of Purple, and the consequences were hitting him hard. "Stop! Stop!"

"What the fuck're-"

" _I SAID STOP!_ " Grimmjow screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice raspy and breaking. He jumped to his feet, his grip on his gun deathly as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and opened his eyes. He pointed the weapon at Ichigo's chest and snarled, voices still going crazy in his head. He couldn't breathe and his chest was hurting. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you."

Ichigo finally had the sense to show some fear as he backed up a step, his face pale and eyes wide. "What the hell is wrong with you, Grimm-"

" _Don't you fuckin' say my name_."

Ichigo's mouth snapped shut and his eyes stuck to the gun in Grimmjow's hand. His body started trembling as Grimmjow took a step closer, the gun never wavering. It was clear that Ichigo was afraid for his life, but Grimmjow was so far past recognizing anything, it was hopeless.

"You...you _played_ me. I can't believe this shit. And then ya fuck a Blood? Ya know they're tryna kill me, right? Nah. You don't care."

Grimmjow felt delirious. He'd never been this out of tune with his composure in his life. There was murmuring in his head and he kept seeing images that he didn't want to see. His father with a syringe in his arm, his mother being fucked by two strange men, Yero smiling up at him, kissing him, touching him. Yero with his head blown off. Grimmjow gagged and bent at the waist. It was happening all over again. How had he been so damned careless?

Everything he'd eaten made its way onto the ground in front of him and the backs of his eyes stung. He was shaking and his heart was literally broken. Grimmjow looked up at a frozen Ichigo, his arm steadying as he aimed his gun at Ichigo's chest again. Tears slid down his cheeks as he shook his head, the voices escalating.

" _I'll never forgive you_ ," he growled as he pulled the trigger.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo fell backwards on the porch, his back hitting the top step as he gasped for air. What the hell had just happened? Things had seemed to slow down right before speeding back up, but by then it had been too late. He gripped his shoulder, staring down at the blood spreading over his arm. What the fuck?

The apartment door had been cracked, but burst open at that moment, Shiro and Shinji both spilling from the hall like water from a tipped over glass. Ichigo stared at them, his body frozen and mind in shock. He couldn't move. His shoulder stung like a thousand wasps had gone at it, and his heart pounded forcefully. Shinji was the first one to break the suspended animation as he rushed forward and stooped beside him, his hand shooting to his front pocket.

"What the fuck happened?" he growled, honey brown eyes narrowed.

Ichigo wanted to snap 'What the fuck does it look like, genius?', but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Instead he gasped again, his body going numb. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His body trembled as he glanced away from Shinji and down to the blue-haired man that had shot him. Grimmjow was huddled on the ground, his body quaking, his gun on the grass in front of him. Ichigo still couldn't really believe Grimmjow had gone as far as shooting him. Hadn't Grimmjow been the one to leave _him_? Hadn't _he_ disappeared without a word of goodbye? So, what the fuck was _he_ so pissed about?

Grimmjow's body shivered, but he slowly eased to his feet, his movements sluggish and out of sorts. Ichigo flinched violently as he watched Grimmjow stoop back down and grab his gun. Was he going to try again? Ichigo involuntarily huddled closer to Shinji, his nerves electric as he was stricken with fear. _He_ didn't want to die because some asshole had a complex. Surprisingly though, Grimmjow didn't even seem to see him anymore because he tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and ambled away, his gait unstable, like he was drunk off his ass. When he disappeared around the bushes, Ichigo still didn't relax. He was too afraid and his mind was still shrouded in shock.

Shinji's voice in his ear brought him back to reality for a while. "Ichigo! What happened?"

Ichigo finally found his voice as he glared at his brother's blond boyfriend. "Your fucking friend shot me! What _the fuck_ does it look like? Ah!" he gasped, his hand tightening around the wound on his shoulder.

Shinji growled under his breath, withdrawing his cell from his pocket. Ichigo frowned as he watched, trying to distract himself from the burning pain in his arm. Was Shinji really about to call the cops? Did he _really_ want that kind of heat on his back? Ichigo was woozy, the loss of blood starting to go to his head, but he was aware enough to know how the game went. Gangsters and cops didn't mix, like oil and water.

"Yo. Need some help." Ichigo saw Shinji's mouth move, but the blond's voice had been distorted, like he was speaking under water. Ichigo squinted and tried to concentrate on what the other man was saying. "Forty-four West Front Lane. Yeah, Brook End. Hurry up!"

That didn't sound like a nine-one-one call to Ichigo. It sounded like Shinji had just called someone he knew to come to the apartment. Ichigo leaned back, searching for a flat surface to rest on, but instead his back ended up resting against a warm body. He closed his eyes, too tired to care who he was leaning on, but the voice made his eyes snap open and stare guiltily into the distance.

"I'm here, King."

Ichigo felt his eyes burning in addition to the pain in his shoulder. Why did Shiro have to be so nice to him right now? It would have been better if his twin had shunned him and laughed in his face, telling him you reap what you sow, or something like that. Not this unconditional kindness.

Shiro's arms came around him and Ichigo rested his head against his brother's shoulder. His heart had slowed down and right now he was just incredibly sleepy. He closed his eyes, but his body was jarred by Shinji shaking him roughly.

"No sleepin', dude."

Ichigo grumbled under his breath as he shivered. He was suddenly cold, even though the evening was a nice one. Damn, he couldn't believe Grimmjow had shot him. The other man's eyes had been scary as hell when he'd pointed his gun at Ichigo's chest. Dull, no longer bright blue and completely far away. Like Grimmjow had been soulless at the time. Ichigo remembered feeling like ice had slid down his back and pooled in his boxers. He'd never encountered a purely unstable person before, but there was always room for improvement as tonight had shown him.

Grimmjow was still out there, though. Did he want to finish what he'd started? It hadn't seemed like it when the man had climbed to his feet and stumbled off. Ichigo was scared, but more than that, he was confused. He didn't know what to expect from the blue-haired man now.

XOXOXO

Shiro held King against his chest, his heart thumping wildly. All he'd heard was a loud, familiar voice shouting outside before the sound of a gun going off. At first, he'd thought the worst, thinking that maybe Ginjou had finally shown his true colors. Then, he'd registered the voice and realized that it was far worse than he'd thought. Grimmjow walking up on Ginjou and King had to have been the worst case scenario.

When he and Shinji had heard the yelling, they had paused on the couch, staring at each other incredulously, and then the gun had gone off. That had sent them flying into action, falling over each other as they careened down the stairs and out onto the front porch. Shiro had been rooted to the spot when he'd seen King sitting on the steps of the porch, holding his shoulder and bleeding all over the place. His heart had stalled in his chest as he'd stared. He hadn't been able to move, shock and fear running laps around each other in his mind. Then Shinji had gone forward and everything seemed to start up again. Shiro had watched as Shinji took out his phone and called someone that Shiro hoped would come and help his brother. But then his attention had been grabbed by a shock of bright blue hair on the lawn, swaying away from the scene.

Shiro had been tempted to shout or something to get Grimmjow to stop, but what would he have done if the obviously dangerous man had come back? Yell at him? Fuck that. Shiro loved his life just as it was. No one said anything as Grimmjow walked away, rounding the bushes and disappearing into the night. Shiro was grateful that Shinji was more focused on King, but he was also afraid that Grimmjow was still going to be out there on the loose and able to come back anytime he wanted to.

Shaking his head, he banished all thoughts of the blue-haired man and turned his eyes back to his brother. King had his head lolling against Shiro's shoulder, his breathing slowing, getting even and deep as if he were falling asleep. Shiro shook him gently, not wanting to jar his wounded shoulder, but it did nothing to wake him.

"Shin, I think he fell asleep."

"That ain't good. Ya gotta get him up til Szayel can get here an' look at him."

Shiro tried again, this time moving King's head. King groaned, his eyes fluttering, but his lips and face were frightfully pale. "Wake up, King," Shiro mumbled.

"Tired," King said quietly, his voice barely audible.

"I know, but ya gotta get up. Ya can' sleep right now."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know," Shiro agreed.

King's shoulder was still bleeding and the hand that had been guarding his wound had slid to his side. Shiro carefully moved his brother's head and tried to remove his t-shirt, but King was too heavy against his chest and didn't appear to want to move.

"Shin, I need-"

"Yeah, I got it," Shinji responded automatically as he rose to his feet.

He peeled his white tee off and handed it to Shiro, his eyes glittering with rage. The look shocked Shiro and made him wonder if the anger was directed at him. "What's wrong?"

Shinji blew out a breath and ran a hand through his blond bang. "I'm pissed," he grunted.

"Yeah, I kinda got that part already. Why're ya pissed though?"

"I don' unnerstan' Grimm. I mean, why the fuck would he shoot Ichigo? I know he was prob'ly mad as hell when he saw Ginjou, but that doesn' mean he hadda shoot Ichigo. I don' get it."

"Me either. He's the one that left, right?"

"Yeah." Shinji paused, running his hand through his hair again, agitation screaming in the motion. "I wish Szayel would hurry up. I wanna go find Grimm."

Shiro's eyes went wide. "Y-ya sure ya wanna do somethin' like that with him in the state he's in?"

Shinji gave Shiro an amused glance. "I ain' scared a'him. He wouldn' shoot me, anyway."

Shiro wasn't too sure. Grimmjow hadn't looked like he'd been in his right frame of mind when Shiro and Shinji had appeared on the porch. In fact, if Shiro had to describe how Grimmjow had looked, it would be slightly deranged and a lot unhinged. Scary shit. Shiro sighed and wrapped King's wound with Shinji's t-shirt before letting his twin lean against his own shoulder again. King was mumbling under his breath and from what Shiro could hear, he was saying Grimmjow's name.

"Grimmjow...why? I...didn't hurt you. Why'd you leave?"

Shiro grimaced and met Shinji's curious stare. What was he supposed to say? Shiro was sure that they were all thinking the same thing, wondering why the hell Grimmjow had leaped out of the window, so to speak, and shot King. There was something they were all missing about this sordid situation and it unnerved Shiro. It felt like Grimmjow didn't think he'd been wrong, since he'd been mad enough to shoot King in the first place and if the blue-haired man felt that way, then what the fuck was going on for real?

Suddenly, a dark-blue car squealed to a stop in front of the house, the engine shutting off and both the passenger and driver's doors opening. Shiro remembered the men that hopped out of the vehicle from the night they had all met and gone to the Ishida Inn. For one, the dark-haired man striding towards them was named Uryuu Ishida and the other was Szayel. That pink hair was a dead give-away. Shiro would never be able to forget the two men after seeing them fucking each other on the couch of the hotel suite right in front of him and Shinji.

The two men strode up the walkway towards the house, their faces serious and amplifying the terrible situation. Shiro felt his heart rate pick up as they reached the porch and stopped in front of him, both studying King's face.

"What happened?" Ishida asked softly.

Shinji sighed. "Grimmjow." Szayel's eyes went wide, but surprisingly, Ishida didn't even react, other than shaking his head and moving closer to inspect King's arm. "Is this the only wound he has?"

Shiro nodded, answering for Shinji, who had sidled to the edge of the porch, his feet poised on the top stair as he stared at his car parked across the street. "Jus' go," Shiro whispered. "I'll take care of things here."

Shinji turned and looked at him, his face torn. He seemed like he didn't want to leave, but he also seemed like he wanted to go find his friend. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, stupid. Go. Jus'...jus' be careful. If he shoots you too, I'll kill 'im myself."

Shinji chuckled and passed a hand through Shiro's hair before hopping off the porch and jogging to his car. The engine roared to life and Shinji peeled away from the curb like the pavement was on fire. Shiro watched the tail lights disappear around the corner before turning back to the two men prodding and talking to King.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Szayel asked seriously.

Shiro glanced down and realized that King had opened his eyes, but they were glazed and groggy. "Five?"

Shiro would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. In all reality, Szayel was only holding up two fingers, so for King to answer five was alarming. Shiro glanced back and forth between the pink-haired man and Ishida, who had both frowned before exchanging their own glances. It was quite obvious that King wasn't doing so well, but Shiro needed some specific answers before his heart decided to jump out of his chest.

"What the hell? C'n ya help 'im? I'm sure tha's why Shin called ya over here," he snapped.

Szayel sighed and ran a hand through his pink bang. "He's going into shock, if he isn't already."

Shiro swallowed nervously as he turned his focus to his sluggish brother. No matter how angry he'd been at King, he hadn't wished _this_ on him. Shiro never wanted anything to happen to his twin. His hand tightened around King's waist as he shifted the other man's heavy body. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew the feeling of panic rising in his chest and stomach would serve no one any good. However, it was becoming increasingly hard to bury it, let alone fight it.

Ishida stepped forward and offered a slim hand in Shiro's direction. "Let's get him upstairs."

Shiro nodded absently, grateful that finally something was being done to help his brother. Then, he realized that King had pretty much become dead weight, meaning that all three of them would more than likely have to drag the orange-haired man's heavy ass up a flight of stairs...on foot. Fucking Grimmjow.

**XxxxxxX**

Five very annoying minutes later saw King safely tucked in his bed, Szayel and Ishida hovering over him wearing latex gloves and needle and thread on the nightstand beside the bed. There were bottles of antiseptics and antibiotics, cotton balls, swabs and pads, gauze and bandages and it all made Shiro wonder exactly where the hell it had come from. He wasn't complaining, though. Anything to help King feel better. Speaking of King, Shiro glanced around his brother's room, his upper lip slowly curling back in disgust. If they hadn't already lay the man to rest on his bed, Shiro would have suggested they take him back into the living room to the couch. King's room was an utter pigsty. Shiro didn't see how any human being could comfortably live amongst all that filth.

Balls of paper littered the floor near the trashcan, defeating its purpose, while dust and suspicious liquids covered the surfaces of his nightstand and dresser. The air was stale with the scent of old marijuana and dirty clothes and Shiro almost gagged when he spied a half-eaten cheeseburger that had to be days – or maybe even weeks old – on the dresser near King's stereo. Foregoing his previous thoughts of letting King remain on his bed, he massaged his temples as he addressed Ishida and Szayel.

"Look, I'm sorry ta interrupt ya, but ya can't do this in here."

Szayel sighed in relief and Ishida wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Thank you. I was beginning to worry about the safety of this environment," Ishida stated dryly, his dark-blue eyes glittering with amusement.

Shiro chuckled, but prepared himself to remove his brother from the bio-hazard he called his bedroom. They hefted King by the torso and legs and trudged into the living room, where they deposited their burden onto the couch. Szayel and Ishida went back to grab their tools, while Shiro went into the kitchen. He opened the pantry door and stepped all the way to the back, where he retrieved a pale blue bucket that contained all the heavy duty cleaning supplies, like bleach, ammonia and multi-surface cleaner. He grabbed the broom, vacuum and slowly went back to King's room, thoroughly disgruntled. He stood on front of the door, staring incredulously. How could a grown-ass man have allowed his own living space to become so...shamefully hazardous?

Shiro sighed, grabbed one of Shinji's blue bandanas from the back of the couch and tied it over the lower half of his face. After that, he went to the bathroom and filled the bucket with scalding hot water. Then he pulled on a pair of blue, latex gloves and dumped about two caps of bleach into the bucket. He grabbed a sponge from the cabinet under the bathroom sink and prepared for warfare.

He passed through the living room again, avoiding the amused glances from Szayel and Ishida as he made his way back into King's room. Shiro was determined to rid it of the present filth before single-celled organisms began breeding under King's bed. Shiro set the bucket in the doorway and started gathering clothes from the floor and around the orange-haired man's closet. Once he tossed the clothing items into King's hamper, he started on the miscellaneous trash surrounding the room. Shiro shook his head in disgust. King hadn't been much of a clean freak before he'd started being reckless, but then again, he'd never been an outright slob, either. This was just ridiculous.

Debris finally cleared from the carpet, Shiro went to the bucket resting in the doorway and dropped a sponge into it. He attacked the dressers and nightstand next, scrubbing away all the gross shit that had accumulated on the surfaces, then he moved on to the windows. He dusted the curtains, cleaned the glass and wiped down the blinds. After that, Shiro swept the carpet and vacuumed, the dust rising from the floor absolutely appalling. The carpet once more resembling a carpet, Shiro moved on to replacing the linen on King's bed. There were bloodstains from his twin's shoulder as well as numerous holes and other stains from only God knows what. Shiro wrinkled his nose and shook a clean comforter on top of the fresh sheets he'd placed on the soft mattress. The air in the room already smelled considerably better as he went around the room with a bottle of Febreeze. He needed to be sure. He was positive King would thank him for cleaning the room once he was conscious. No one should live in those conditions, no matter how depressed or angry they were.

Shiro gathered the cleaning supplies and started to leave when he realized upon spying a balled up piece of paper that he'd totally neglected the space underneath King's bed. Grumbling, he went over to the side of the bed and stooped to his knees, reaching for the balled up paper. What seemed like years worth of dust greeted Shiro and made his eyes water, his nose beginning to run. Annoyance made him suck his teeth as he grabbed the paper. He tossed it into the trash can and sighed. He'd had enough of cleaning and really...who would be looking underneath King's bed anyway? Certainly not the man himself considering he hadn't even given a shit about the whole room. Shiro started to stand when another slip of paper caught his attention.

Damn, King was a messy bastard. Where the hell had all that paper come from anyway?

He grabbed that paper too, but paused. This one hadn't been balled up like all the others and he was able to make out a scratchy handwriting that didn't look anything like King's. Shiro turned the paper right side up and read.

_Ichigo,_

_I'll be back. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. You're mine now._

_Grimm_

"Oh shit," Shiro muttered.

XOXOXO

Shinji pulled in front of the apartment he'd shared with Grimmjow and stared up at the building. He knew Grimmjow was there because he'd spotted the man's Acura parked haphazardly in the parking lot. It was crooked and taking up both of their spaces, forcing Shinji to park on the street. He didn't mind. He knew there had to be some serious shit going on in Grimm's head for him to up and shoot Ichigo as if he didn't even know the guy. Hadn't Grimmjow been the one to leave in the first place? So why shoot the orange-haired man?

Well, that's what Shinji was here for. He was going to get some answers, Grimmjow's attitude be damned. He hopped out of his car and stalked to the entrance of the building, his temples throbbing as he thought about and dreaded the upcoming confrontation. He knew Grimmjow would be pissed, maybe even a bit unstable, but Shinji had dealt with Grimmjow in that state before after the episode with Aaroniero. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he could handle it.

Keigo had his feet up on his desk as usual, but this time he was wide awake, and when he spotted Shinji, his feet dropped to the floor as he shot into a correct sitting position. Shinji couldn't hide his frown.

"Er, Hirako...yer friend...he, uh..."

"Is he still upstairs? Or did he leave again on foot?"

Keigo shook his head and pointed up at the ceiling, his eyes wide with apprehension. "Nah, he's still up there. Fuckin' scary," he whispered.

Shinji nodded and made his way to the elevators, his heart pounding. Grimmjow was known for his notorious control and calm demeanor, so for Keigo – of all the oblivious idiots – to notice something was wrong, Grimmjow had to have been in a right state. Shinji stabbed the call button and was grateful when the silver doors immediately opened. He wasted no time stepping inside and punching the button for their floor. He was beginning to get nervous. After changing into a fresh shirt in his car, he hadn't even had time to feel any trepidation about going after his best friend, but now, all that was changing the closer he got to Grimmjow.

The elevator opened and Shinji slowly exited, his stride hesitant and unsure. What was he going to say to Grimm? He knew what he wanted to ask, but what would he say to whatever Grimmjow said to him? What if Grimmjow had indeed shot Ichigo in cold blood, never mind whatever they had shared between them? Shinji felt a chill creep over him as he reached into his back pocket for his key. Fuck.

He stuck it into the lock and twisted, the door swinging open almost ominously. Shinji entered the entirely too quiet apartment and looked around for any signs of his best friend. The first sign of the blue-haired man's presence was the overwhelmingly thick scent of Purple hanging in the air. The second sign was the closed bedroom door and the third sign was the loud music pouring from behind said door. Instead of the guitar Shinji had been expecting, slow R&B rumbled the walls and a female singer crooned over a mellow beat. Shinji's head listed to the side in shock. Normally, Grimmjow either played gritty rap or his father's guitar.

What was with the slow shit?

Shinji crept to his best friend's door and pressed his ear to it, listening for any other signs of life. Nothing but more music floated from the other side. He took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, knowing he was breaking all kinds of unspoken rules between him and Grimmjow, but Shinji figured the situation was kind of urgent. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and slowly opened, thankfully not squeaking and alerting Grimmjow to Shinji's presence. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Shinji paused in the doorway at the sight that greeted him, his eyes widening.

Grimmjow lay across his bed on his back, his long legs hanging over the side and hands resting on his stomach. There was a slight sheen of sweat covering the man's naked chest and strong, muscular legs. Grimmjow only had on a pair of black, knit boxers, his hair was standing on end and his blue eyes were focused on the ceiling. He wasn't moving and there were tear streaks on his face. Shinji glanced at the nightstand beside the bed and saw several marijuana roaches smoldering away, as if Grimmjow had been chain smoking. Considering what had just occurred, Shinji wouldn't at all be surprised if that was exactly what the man had done. Now that Shinji had time to take in the other man's appearance, he realized that Grimmjow's eyes weren't exactly "focused" on the ceiling at all. They were glazed and glassy, his lips parted and chest rising and falling slowly. Shinji stepped into the room and quietly shut the door, garnering no reaction from Grimmjow whatsoever. The man didn't even twitch.

Shinji stood for a few seconds more, then cleared his throat. Again, Grimmjow didn't move. He didn't even blink. What the hell? Shinji went over to the blue-haired man and slapped his sweaty leg, glaring down at him. When Grimmjow didn't move again, Shinji sucked his teeth and started to do something more drastic.

"Know wha's funny?" Grimmjow's gravelly voice croaked over the music.

Shinji jerked like he'd been hit. "N-no," he stuttered in response, completely taken off guard. He hadn't been expecting Grimmjow to talk after behaving like a vegetable for the past few minutes.

Grimmjow's face finally moved as it twisted into a grimace. He licked his lips and spoke again. "Still can' hate 'im." Grimmjow turned to look Shinji in the eye and smirked painfully, the expression tugging at Shinji's heart. "S'fucked up, ain' it?"

Shinji was unsure where to start. He'd meant to light into Grimmjow and curse him out and ask him _what the fuck_ he'd been thinking coming there and shooting Ichigo that way, but now...he just felt bad for the man for some reason. He'd never seen Grimmjow look this bad, not even after the thing with Aaroniero. _Still_ , Shinji thought as he shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair, _I need some answers_.

"Uh, Grimm, where the fuck were ya?" he asked, deciding that was a good place to start.

Grimmjow turned back to the ceiling, but not before Shinji spotted the small frown creasing his forehead. "I toldja I was leavin'."

Grimmjow's words were slurred, but Shinji was able to decipher the words the man had spoken and at that moment, it felt like ice water was dumped down his back. _What?_ Grimmjow hadn't told him anything. Hell, it was the reason Shinji was so pissed with the man in the first place.

"What're ya talkin' 'bout? Ya didn' tell me anythin'."

Grimmjow's frown deepened as he turned back to Shinji. "I did. Sentcha a tex'."

The ice water froze and turned Shinji's back into a sculpture. "I didn' get it."

Grimmjow stared at him blankly for a beat, his deep blue eyes cloudy and entirely too bright. "Wha' 'bout tha note?"

It was Shinji's turn to frown. "What note?"

"Lef' a note fer Ichigo. Little shit," Grimmjow grumbled, his eyes going back to the ceiling.

Shinji felt his heart running around wildly in his chest as he tried to put everything together. If what he was hearing was correct, then there had been an immense miscommunication. Grimmjow claimed to have left a note for Ichigo _and_ a text for Shinji. Apparently, neither of them had gotten either. Shinji's mouth went dry and his hands clammy. If that was the case, then what Grimmjow had walked in on with Ichigo and Ginjou had in fact been the other way around in his eyes. Ichigo had betrayed _him_.

"Aw, fuck," Shinji whispered.

What was he supposed to do now? He didn't think just telling Grimmjow that Ichigo hadn't gotten his note would suffice. Not in the blue-haired man's current condition. And for that matter, what Ichigo had done had been too much. Even if Grimmjow could understand Ichigo's reasoning, fucking with a Blood was completely taboo. How was he supposed to salvage this situation?

His cell ringing in his back pocket distracted him and made Grimmjow glance at him. "Did I kill 'im?" he asked quietly, his deep voice raspy and thick.

Shinji shuddered, but shook his head. "N-nah. Ya got his shoulder."

"Hn," Grimmjow grunted. "Good."

Shinji jerked in surprise again. He'd been expecting Grimmjow to be upset about missing his mark, not happy or relieved. The ringing persisted and made Shinji answer it with an annoyed, "Yo."

Shiro's voice on the other end immediately gave him pause. What his boyfriend said, however, made his heart rate pick up as he glanced over at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow hadn't been lying about the note.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

"Don't kiss me!"

"Why you never let me kiss you, Di?"

"'Cuz I don't know where ya fuckin' lips been," Di Roy snapped as he none too gently pushed the dark-haired girl away from his lap.

She tossed her head and gave him a glare that would've surely peeled paint from the walls. Di Roy ignored her as he slipped his jeans back into place over his slim hips. Once he buckled his belt and secured the button, he threw on his white hoodie and climbed to his feet. It was a task rising from the severely sunken in couch, but he managed to make it and head to the door, stepping over clothes and shoes, shaking his head in disgust as he went. When he reached the door, he turned back to face the dark-haired girl, who wore said hair in two pigtail-styled ponytails. Her nearly non-existent breasts were still exposed as she huddled on the floor in front of the ragged couch. Her eyes were locked onto Di Roy's face, as if begging him not to leave just yet.

 _To hell with that_ , he thought.

He watched as the girl stretched her legs in front of her and picked at her frayed jean shorts. Her eyes lowered to her lap briefly before lifting and meeting his again. This time the disturbing sight of tears sitting on her lashes greeted him and Di Roy grimaced, his hand tightening on the door knob. He really didn't feel anything for Loly, but he hated seeing girls cry, no matter who they were. Now, he felt like he was obligated to figure out what the hell was making the girl shed tears. Unfortunately, or fortunately – however you chose to look at it – he didn't have to ask Loly what her problem was. She volunteered it with her next words.

"Di, you treat me so bad, but I never been nothin' but nice to you. I treat you good, I cook for you when you come here high as hell and hungry to boot. I thought you at least had some type of feelin's for me. What I do wrong?"

 _Aw, fuck_ , Di Roy inwardly swore. _Now what?_ He didn't know what to say to that. He glanced uneasily at Loly and shrugged his shoulders, feeling a little helpless.

"What you want me ta say, Loly? You knew what it was from the door. I never made no promises ta you."

Loly nodded and placed her hands in her lap, her head hanging almost demurely. Tears slid down her cheeks and she sniffled occasionally. Di Roy was so far beyond uncomfortable, it was making his skin crawl. Loly wiped her eyes and lifted her head, her eyes finding Di Roy's with a slicing precision.

"I shoulda listened to my girl when she told me not ta fuck wit' a dude like you. You ain't no good, jus' like that guy you run around tryna be like," she whispered harshly.

Di Roy had had a mind to take it easy on the girl because he knew he wasn't the settling down type and he'd almost felt bad for her, but when she'd mentioned G, that had been crossing all types of lines. G was his big brother and Di Roy wouldn't tolerate anyone talking negatively about him. At least not while he was around anyway. He stepped away from the door and glared down at the small girl seated on the floor.

"Don' talk shit about G. He ain't do shit ta you. Ya beef is wit' me, yo."

Loly paused before an impish grin spread her lips upwards. "You don't like that, huh?"

"Nah," Di Roy said with a deep scowl. "So don' fuckin' talk shit about him."

"Whatever. You can leave now. It ain't like you wanna stay here, so go."

Di Roy glared some more before sucking his teeth and leaving the messy apartment without another word or looking back. Once outside, he threw his hood over his head, his ash-white hair flattening from the heavy but soft material. He took a deep breath and started down the deserted street, his sneakers silent against the gray pavement of the sidewalk. It was around two in the morning, so everything was dead on the outskirts of town. He stuck his hands in his pockets, cursing himself for leaving his radio at home. It wasn't like him, but he'd figured since he wouldn't be outside like that, he wouldn't need it. Now, he missed it.

The streetlights illuminated the block, but the eerie silence made the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand up. He shivered and lowered his head, quickening his pace. His heart was pounding, but he refused to succumb to his nervousness. Hell, he didn't even know _why_ he was so nervous. He'd walked this block time and time again without incident, so the fact that he was suddenly wary of it made him scoff and shake his head.

"Man up, yo," he mumbled to himself.

The sound of a car slowly progressing up the street made his ears perk and his heart race. He didn't glance over his shoulder like he so badly wanted to, but he did listen carefully as the car got closer and seemed to slow down once it reached him. Di Roy eased his hand behind his back and gripped his .380 tucked into the waistband of his jeans, his fingers curling around the rubber handle comfortably. The car pulled up beside him and rolled to a stop, making him peer at it from the corner of his eyes. Who the fuck was that? He didn't stop walking, but he did notice the passenger window roll down, making the dark tint disappear.

"Yo, where the fuck you goin'?" a familiar voice called out.

Di Roy breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face the car fully, a wide grin blooming and his hand leaving his back. "Don' do that shit, bitch!" he said a little too loudly, his heart shuddering from the adrenaline that had pumped through his system only seconds before.

"Haha! Nah, where you goin', though?"

Di Roy shrugged and started towards the dark-green Honda Civic. "I'own know. Where you goin'? Matta fact, what you doin' 'round here at this time a'night?"

The red-haired boy in the car grinned and shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Nothin' much. Jus' lookin' for suntin' ta get into. You comin' from that trick house?"

Di Roy threw his head back and laughed. His boy had never liked Loly; why, though, he'd never found out. Jinta hadn't been in too much of a mood to tell him whenever he'd asked. Not that it mattered. Di Roy lived by the code "brothers over bitches" and that wasn't changing any time soon. He walked over to the car and waited for Jinta to unlock the door before climbing inside. He sat back against the smooth leather seat and sighed.

"That bitch trippin'."

Jinta chuckled as he pressed the button for the window, making the darkened pane of glass slide fluidly back into place. The inside of the small vehicle smelled like Blueberry Haze and Di Roy immediately honed in on the partially-smoked blunt resting in the ashtray. Jinta followed his gaze, his smirk widening.

"Go 'head," he grunted. The red head waited for Di Roy to light up and take his first pull before peeling away from the curb.

Di Roy used that time to sneakily assess his closest friend. For some odd reason, he'd always thought the other teen was handsome in an urban, nerdy kind of way. Jinta Hanakari wore black, rectangular-framed glasses and kept his fire engine red hair precisely cut in a Caesar. Tonight the boy wore a pair of black, loosely fitted khaki pants, a white polo shirt underneath a black hoodie and black and white, laceless Vans. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, of course, but to Di Roy, they only made the boy appear more intriguing. He shook his head and frowned. What the hell was he thinking about?

"So what the hell was Loly trippin' on _this_ time?" Jinta asked, shattering the silence.

Di Roy exhaled another lungful of smoke before leaning his head against the window frame. He sucked his teeth. "Same ole shit. She actin' like I'm 'posed ta wife her er suntin'. That ain't happ'nin', so I don' know why she keep goin' on about shit like that."

Jinta went quiet, his pale hand gripping the steering wheel and his bright red eyebrows creased into a thoughtful frown. Although his steel gray eyes were hidden behind his glasses and disguised by the shadows being thrown around inside the car, Di Roy could still imagine them glinting with dislike.

"Why you still fuckin' her anyway?"

Di Roy hid his jerk of surprise with a shrug as he glanced out of the window. "I'own know. Easy, I guess," he mumbled before drawing deeply on the blunt again.

By now, he was pretty high (Blueberry Haze was just as strong as Purple) and feeling extremely giggly. Jinta glanced at him and smirked. "There's other females that're easy and won't give ya such a hard time, ya know."

"True. I just don't feel like goin' through the bullshit. That whole song and dance is old."

"So, what're you sayin'?" Jinta asked, his voice deepening as he turned a corner and pulled into more familiar, more comfortable territory. "You don' feel like findin' a new bitch?"

"Not really."

"Hn."

Di Roy speared his friend with a curious look. It wasn't like Jinta to _not_ speak his mind on everything. "What that mean?"

Jinta glanced over at him, his face entirely too serious and that glint oh-so obvious in his eyes. Then it was gone and Jinta was looking back out at the street. He shrugged carelessly and held his hand out for the blunt. Di Roy passed it to him, but kept studying him. Jinta was hiding something from him and now, Di Roy was hell-bent on finding out what it was.

Jinta drove and smoked quietly, which was unnatural in itself, and Di Roy didn't like it. A disgruntled feeling settled over him and made him restless. He turned in his seat to glare at his friend just as the red-haired boy parked in the lot of a local motel. The engine was shut off and Jinta pushed his seat back, his free arm going behind his head as he stared through the windshield.

"Ay!" Di Roy said sharply.

Jinta jumped a little, but turned it into a slight shift in his own seat as he shot sparks at Di Roy. "What?"

"Yer hidin' suntin'. Wussup?"

Di Roy kept his eyes focused on the red head and watched every little movement the teen made. Jinta went back to making himself comfortable, but a derisive chuckle left him as he did so. Di Roy scowled, but remained silent, hoping that Jinta would just spill already. Finally, after what seemed like forever and a day, Jinta sighed and rolled his neck, his head lolling in Di Roy's direction.

"I don't think yer ready for what I'm not tellin' you," Jinta's deep voice reverberated throughout the tiny interior of the car.

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout?"

"Just what I said."

"I'm lost."

"'Course you are. It don't matter, though. Why don't you just leave this conversation alone and finish smokin'? I'll take you home when yer done."

Di Roy hedged like a porcupine. "Fuck that! Tell me!"

"No, Di. Trust me on this one, aight?"

"N-o," Di Roy enunciated slowly and purposely. "Tell me. Now. Before I kick yer ass in this car."

Jinta frowned in amusement and chuckled. "You wish."

"Tell me."

A pause before Jinta was staring intensely at Di Roy again. "You sure? I mean, don't bitch up when I tell you."

"Fuck you. Spill it," Di Roy said with an exaggerated huff.

Jinta shook his head and massaged his temples, forehead, then the bridge of his nose, his glasses lifting briefly. "Shit," the red head muttered. Then those steel-gray eyes were back on Di Roy and focused like a scope. "Di, I'm gay."

Di Roy's eyebrows disappeared completely as he stared at his friend. He was beyond shocked, beyond astonished, beyond flabbergasted. Jinta had never given the impression that he liked guys. Ever. But bigger than that, what did that have to do with their current conversation? Di Roy wasn't averse to his acquaintances being gay, hell, G was pretty gay, but he was still the most dangerous man Di Roy had ever met. So, the fact that Jinta was gay didn't bother him at all. It just left him wildly curious as to why Jinta would place that topic on the table of discussion.

"What's that gotta do wit' anythin'?" Di Roy asked, deciding to just get around the formalities. Jinta shook his head, but refused to give an answer, so Di Roy just persisted. "Jinta."

Jinta visibly shuddered, the movement making Di Roy frown. He started to ask his friend if he was cold or something, until Jinta turned those piercing gray eyes on him again and rendered him speechless.

"Di, you dumbass. You never could put two and two together."

"Hey, hey! You callin' me stupid?"

Jinta shook his head again, but this time his face softened into a tender expression. He leaned over the middle console, his scent flying towards Di Roy and engulfing him like a cotton candy cocoon. Jinta smelled like Blueberry and sandalwood. Di Roy remembered teasing the boy a while back, telling him that he was a hippie since he dressed like one and even smelled like one.

Heart in his mouth, Di Roy watched his friend lean close and close his eyes, Jinta's lips coming disturbingly close to his own. But he was stuck, paralyzed, immobile. He couldn't even move if someone lit his ass on fire. Jinta's hand came out and rested on Di Roy's left shoulder as if holding him in place. Not that he needed to. Di Roy felt like he'd been ripped from his own body and forced to watch what was going on from the outside. He watched, stunned, as Jinta's body edged even closer, his lips now less than a millimeter away. Di Roy could feel his breath on his lips and for some reason, it turned his gut inside out. In a good way, though. Butterflies erupted in his stomach and made heat spread to his groin. His breathing became erratic and he supposed it alerted Jinta, because Jinta stopped moving and locked eyes with him.

"Get it now?"

Di Roy licked his pathetically dry lips with an equally dry tongue as he nodded helplessly. "I-I think so. I mean...yeah. I get it."

Jinta studied him for a minute longer, then sighed and started leaning back towards his seat. Di Roy felt possessed when his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of Jinta's hoodie, keeping him in place. Jinta was obviously just as surprised because those bright red eyebrows leaped into his hairline. Di Roy bit his bottom lip, then ran his tongue over his braces nervously. He'd never really kissed anyone before, deciding that keeping things impersonal was the better approach. He would never tell anyone that the real reason he'd never kissed anyone before was because he was afraid of being laughed at, or that someone's tongue would get caught in his braces or something.

Jinta's body came close again, this time a bit more aggressively, but still marginally holding back. Di Roy swallowed thickly, wondering just what the hell he was doing. He wasn't gay. Not that he could remember. Then again, he had always admired Jinta in more than just a friendly kind of way. Maybe that had been a sign.

Jinta's lips were ridiculously close again, but this time, Di Roy was prepared for it. Jinta was warm, familiar, comfy. He liked it. He tightened his hold on Jinta's hoodie and pulled him forward, closing the gap between their mouths. Di Roy shuddered when a heat wave swept his lithe frame. All they did was press their lips together and he already felt like he wanted more. Where it had come from, he had no clue, and he wasn't about to sit and try to dissect the reasoning at the moment. Jinta slanted his mouth and parted his lips, his tongue peeking from behind his perfect, white teeth. Di Roy had always been slightly envious of his friend's picture-ready teeth, but now, none of that seemed to matter.

Di Roy breathed tentatively through his nose and followed Jinta's lead of opening his mouth a bit. Their tongues touched and it was like the Fourth of July in a cramped bedroom. Di Roy could tell things were about to get a bit out of hand, especially when Jinta's hand ran up the side of his left cheek, then into his hood that he still had draped over his hair. Jinta slowly lowered it before letting his fingers travel through Di Roy's unruly, white hair.

Di Roy jumped when Jinta's tongue traced his braces delicately. He wanted to pull back, but Jinta held him firmly in place by grasping his hair. Not too tightly to the point of true pain, but just enough to let him know that he didn't want him going anywhere. This time, Jinta thrust his tongue into Di Roy's mouth and the shock of it sent sparks along Di Roy's spine. It made him grip Jinta's hoodie even tighter, drawing him closer. Shit, he wanted to pull the red head into his lap and throw caution to the wind. He'd never been so aroused in his whole life.

Jinta finally withdrew from the kiss, his hand still in Di Roy's hair. Di Roy already missed his tongue and soft lips. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Jinta gave him an odd look, then shrugged, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "You know how long I've wanted ta do that ta you?"

Di Roy felt his ears go hot and his cheeks flush. "Nah."

"Too long."

Di Roy really didn't want to talk anymore; he wanted to get back to kissing. However, Jinta had something else in mind. Di Roy watched the red head reach towards the glove compartment and remove a dark-brown, leather wallet. Frowning, he started to ask what Jinta was up to, but was beaten to the punch.

"You wanna go inside?"

Di Roy glanced around, his eyes widening when he realized that they _were_ in front of a motel. How had he forgotten? Returning his focus to his friend, he remembered just how he'd forgotten. Smiling slowly and damning what it would mean later on, Di Roy nodded.

"Yeah. C'mon."

XOXOXO

"Soo-woop!"

Ginjou glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Wha's poppin, blood?"

Tousen sauntered over, his hands in the pockets of his bright red hoodie. "Ain't shit. Wha's good wit' you? Haven't seen you around for a while."

Ginjou took his time answering the other man as he reached into his hoodie pocket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes. He lit up and inhaled languidly before exhaling and finally deigning to give a reply.

"Been busy." Tousen stared at him for a quick beat before shrugging his shoulders and averting his gaze. Ginjou hated when the man did that. It made him think he was being kept in the dark about something. "Why?"

"Nothin' special. Jus' curious. Had a little beef pop off a while back with those crabs around the way."

Ginjou nodded, suddenly knowing exactly where the conversation was headed. He'd heard about the fight with G and Slim from their family leader. Aizen hadn't been pleased to say the least, but that was to be expected. For the longest time, he'd had something against those two, but more particularly the blue-haired Crip, G. Ginjou didn't know what Aizen's beef with G was, but he knew why _he_ had a reason to kill him and it had _nothing_ to do with them being from rival gangs.

"I heard about it. Your jaw OK now?"

Tousen glared at him, his pitch black eyes _almost_ frightening. Ginjou knew better, though. Sure, Tousen was scary to everyone else, but Ginjou wasn't the Bloods' main enforcer for nothing. He feared no one, especially not the weakling standing in front of him.

"It's aight. I'm more concerned with what we're gonna do about them crab pussies."

"I dig," Ginjou grunted before taking another pull from his cigarette.

He held the toxic smoke in his lungs before blowing it out in a rush. He wasn't concerned with that at all. He already had a plan in motion that would take care of both G and Slim easily. He hadn't consulted Aizen or his little lapdog, Ulquiorra, either. He knew if he did, they would force him to turn over the reins and try to run the operation themselves, which was precisely what Ginjou _didn't_ want. He shifted his weight and gave Tousen a cursory glance before nodding and shoving off. He had more important matters to tend to.

Like Pretty Boy.

The last time he'd seen the orange-haired man Ichigo, Ichigo had been wasted and fighting with his twin brother. Ginjou hadn't wanted any parts of that; unnecessary drama wasn't his forte. If he didn't create the drama, then it wasn't worth his time, so he'd left Ichigo's place with a promise to see him the next day. However, Pretty Boy's brother had answered his phone the next night and informed him that "King" was in no condition to receive visitors, and especially not the likes of Ginjou. That had made him laugh. Slim's little boyfriend was a feisty one, just like his brother.

Thinking of Slim made Ginjou smirk. He had thoroughly enjoyed riling the blond up with his presence and Pretty Boy had given him the opening he'd needed to study the blond Crip's habitat. There was nothing special about the apartment they all shared, but Ginjou had found a wonderful little nugget of information there. He'd been sitting on the side of Pretty Boy's bed, smoking a post-coital cigarette, when he'd overheard a conversation between Slim and his boyfriend. When he'd heard G's full name being mentioned, his ears had inevitably perked up and his heart had begun to race with anticipation. Of course, Slim would talk about G, considering G was his best friend, from what Ginjou had heard through the grapevine.

What he hadn't realized was that the younger, orange-haired man he'd met at the Loop Lounge was the former flame of G himself. G had never really allowed anyone close to him after his last serious relationship, so that information had proven to be a goldmine. Ginjou finished his cigarette and tossed the butt before rubbing his hands together. If G had allowed Pretty Boy to get close to him, then that meant that Pretty Boy was special to him. It also meant that Ginjou could use Pretty Boy to get his revenge on G. G had it coming and the crazy thing was, G _knew_ he had it coming. It just appeared that the hardened Crip didn't give a fuck. Ginjou had every intention of changing that. If Pretty Boy really meant something to G, then his plan would go off without a hitch.

Hell, he couldn't wait.

G was going to die for killing _his_ two brothers.

XOXOXO

Ichigo woke with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. His eyelids felt like they were glued shut and his body felt like it didn't even belong to him. He tried to open his eyes and stretch, but both actions brought about severe repercussions. Firstly, there was too much light surrounding him, so when he'd cracked his eyes, it had nearly blinded him. Secondly, when he'd gone to move his arms, a screaming, burning pain had ignited his entire right shoulder. What the hell?

He screwed his eyes shut against the offending light, then everything came rushing back to him. Grimmjow. Grimmjow had come back. Then, Grimmjow had shot him. What the hell, indeed. Grimmjow had seemed highly upset when he'd seen Ichigo. Too upset, in fact, considering _Grimmjow_ had been the one to leave.

Ichigo tried the opening the eyes thing again, this time preparing himself for the onslaught of brightness. Amazingly enough, though, the light had dimmed and he was able to comfortably open his eyes and look around. He was on his back in his bed and his room was fucking immaculate. It reeked of Shiro and his clean freak tendencies. Ichigo rolled his eyes, then blinked against the tension it caused behind them. He swallowed nothing a few times before giving up trying to moisten his parched throat. He was thirsty as hell, but also unable to move. Nice little predicament he found himself in.

He slowly lifted his left arm and found that even though it was sore, he was able to get it over his head. Using that bit of freedom, he turned down the blanket covering him and sluggishly eased himself to a sitting position. His shoulder stung like a million bees were having a party there, but he gritted his teeth and fought through it. He needed something to drink like yesterday. After a few minutes of collecting himself at the side of the bed, he stood and immediately regretted it. His knees buckled and his head went light and airy. Luckily, he was able to catch himself before his ass hit the carpet, however, he didn't quite manage to land correctly and jarred his injured shoulder. The resulting pain nearly made him black out. Instead, he leaned against the side of the bed and caught his breath.

OK, apparently walking and moving around was out of the question until he got some form of energy. How he was supposed to accomplish that - being bedridden and all - was beyond him. He wished he had a button he could press, or a bell he could ring that would make a butler or servant come running to fulfill his every need. Wishful thinking. He rested his head against the wooden frame of his bed and closed his eyes. He really couldn't believe that Grimmjow had had the balls to _shoot_ him. How dare he? After all, _Grimmjow_ had been the one to walk away yet again and destroy everything Ichigo had thought they'd established. Ichigo had felt that he and Grimmjow had been on the verge of moving forward and starting something that would be wonderful if given the chance. Instead, Grimmjow had snuffed it out before it'd even had a chance to breathe.

Fucking asshole. Come and shoot him? Ichigo knew it was official. Grimmjow was indeed crazy and extremely unstable. Not to mention, the fool was still out there and there was no telling whether or not he had plans to finish what he'd started. Ichigo shivered, a sudden chill creeping over his shirtless torso. He wished he could wrap his arms around himself in his moment of vulnerability. Yes, he'd been pissed that Grimmjow had thrown away his good intentions, but more than that, Ichigo was hurt. He'd opened himself up and foolishly given Grimmjow a chance to kill any emotions he may have possessed. It was cruel and unnecessary.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. He was tired, his body as weary as his heart. How had he mistaken Grimmjow's actions? How had he been so blind as to not see that the man had had no intention of sticking around that time, just like the other times he'd up and disappeared? He was stupid, that's how.

A sudden noise at Ichigo's bedroom door made him glance in that direction. He tried to form a grin when he saw Shiro standing there holding a broom, but he just couldn't. He was exhausted. Body. Mind. Spirit. His entire being was tired.

"What the hell, King?" Shiro snapped.

Ichigo shook his head and closed his eyes again. "I'm thirsty. How was I supposed to know I couldn't move?"

"Maybe 'cuz ya got shot? Idiot."

Ichigo did smile this time at the affection in his brother's voice. Even after everything Ichigo had done to him, Shiro still treated him the same. Ichigo hung his head in shame and grimaced. He didn't deserve a brother like Shiro.

"C'n ya bring me some water or somethin', Shiro?"

"Yeah. _After_ ya get yer ass back in bed."

Ichigo nodded and tried to climb to his feet, but all the fight drained out of him the instant his left arm braced against the floor. His body was too weak, making it close to impossible for him to get himself in bed. Sighing, he went back to his previous position and closed his eyes yet again.

"Need some help with that." Shiro sucked his teeth and Ichigo heard the broom hit the floor before he listened to his twin's footsteps coming closer. Shiro gripped Ichigo's armpits and hefted him to his feet, Ichigo trying to help as much as he could, but failing miserably. "Sorry, Shiro," he muttered sullenly.

"Shut up. I'll get yer water."

Ichigo leaned back against the pillows and sighed. How the fuck had his life gone down the toilet so quickly? Well, no, not so quickly. Maybe so thoroughly. Yeah, that fit a lot better. He knew why. He'd allowed himself to hope and think that Grimmjow had changed the last night they'd spent together. Hope was a killer dressed to impress. It made Ichigo's stomach hurt and his heart ache just thinking about it. Had he unintentionally fallen for the blue-haired man? That couldn't be right...could it?

Shiro entering his room interrupted his thoughts. He would have to come back to that. Right now, his focus was solely the perspiring glass of water in his brother's pale hand. Ichigo felt like drooling, except, there was no moisture left in his mouth to do so. He reached for the glass when Shiro got close enough, but Shiro batted his hand away and scowled.

"What? And let ya drop the glass? I don' think so, King."

Ichigo frowned, but immediately forgave his brother for treating him like an invalid when the cool glass touched his lips. He drank long and fast and within seconds, the glass was drained of its contents. "More?"

Shiro shook his head and set the glass on the night stand. "Later. I gotta talk ta ya first."

Ichigo winced. He'd had a feeling something like this was going to happen, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. Ah, well. Better to get it over and done with.

"Fine," he grunted.

Shiro's strange eyes pierced him like a hot blade. "Yeah, I was pissed at ya fer bein' an ass, but that ain't what I wanna talk about. 'Sides, I know ya were goin' through it, so I get it. Anyway. What happened wit' you and Grimmjow? I mean, the last time he was here witcha?"

Ichigo instantly pursed his lips and had a mind not to answer Shiro's question at all, but one stern glare from his brother was all it took to get him to spill his guts.

"We fucked."

Shiro plucked Ichigo's forehead. Hard.

"OW! You prick!"

"What the fuck, King? Grow up some! Now, what the hell happened?"

"Why ya wanna know anyway?"

"'Cuz it's important. Now, tell me."

Ichigo sucked his teeth and sat quietly for a few more seconds. Finally, he sighed and shook his head as he started to explain that night in more detail. By the end of his speech, Shiro was gaping at him stupidly.

"H-he, he did what?" Shiro stuttered.

"You heard me the first time. Don't make me repeat it. Please," Ichigo ended with a whisper.

Shiro gulped audibly and stared at his hands. He looked nervous and shocked all at the same time and it unnerved Ichigo. He didn't know what to make of that expression. Just as he was about to ask Shiro what was going on inside his head, Shiro's chest heaved and he lifted his gaze to lock with Ichigo's.

"King...Grimmjow didn't leave you."

Ichigo frowned, his heart rate picking up, but his mind rebelling forcefully. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

Shiro paused, then leaned towards his right side, his hand digging into his left, back pocket. He pulled out a small, white slip of paper and held it out to Ichigo. The paper was crumpled a bit, but there was writing on it that Ichigo didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't his own and it wasn't Shiro's chicken scratch, either. Ominous bells started clanging wildly in his brain as he reached a trembling hand out for the paper. His fingers gripped the edge as he brought it close and read.

Mouth open, Ichigo stared at the note for what seemed like hours, the backs of his eyes stinging before he finally spoke, his voice a painful croak. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it under yer bed when I was cleanin' yer room. I'm guessin' ya never saw it."

Ichigo swallowed, but his throat had closed up. He'd thought his mouth had been dry before, but now, it was the Sahara. What did this mean, then? Grimmjow had left a note? Why hadn't Ichigo gotten it before? The stinging behind his eyes grew more intense as his limbs shook and his bottom lip trembled. This couldn't be real. Any minute now and he'd wake up, laughing at his idiocy. He glanced down at the paper and stared at it until it became a blur, tears hindering his vision.

That was why Grimmjow had been pissed enough to shoot him. He'd probably seen Ginjou leaving and flipped, believing Ichigo had purposely fucked him over. In truth, _he'd_ been the one to betray Grimmjow's trust.

Ichigo gripped his stomach as it rolled unmercifully. Shiro grabbed the trash can just before Ichigo emptied his insides, nothing but water and bile hitting the plastic trash bag. He wretched and heaved until his back ached and his stomach muscles cramped. Tears wouldn't stop running down his face as he finally managed to pause the dry heaving. Shiro sat closer after setting the garbage can on the floor, his fingers running through Ichigo's hair in a soothing gesture.

Ichigo was numb.

What the fuck had he done?


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_Mirror on the wall_

_Here we are again_

_Through my rise and fall_

_You've been my only friend_

_You told me that they can_

_Understand the man I am_

_So why are we here_

_Talking to each other again?_

Grimmjow sat perched on the wooden banister barring pedestrians from the river. The water shimmered like black opals under the moon, the waves cresting against the shore the only sounds aside from the loud music coming from his Acura. The doors were open, allowing the music to float over the surface of the river and echo along the bank, Bruno Mars' voice accompanied with the haunting melody, making the hairs on his body stand up and his skin crawl. Grimmjow drew deeply on the blunt of Purple between his fingers and stared at the undulating waves. He'd been listening to "Mirror" on repeat for some time now; it seemed to be the only thing other than his marijuana that could keep him sane. Keep him from walking the streets in search of a certain orange-haired man.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth, his nose wrinkling in frustration. Although thoughts of Ichigo plagued him night and day, he knew going to find the younger man was out of the question. Yes, he wanted answers, yes, he wanted to strangle the life out of Ichigo for so thoroughly fucking him over, but...he knew that would be pointless. Besides, hadn't Shinji explained to Grimmjow that Ichigo had never received his note? And that Shinji had never received his text, let alone been able to relay his message to Ichigo? Wires had been severely crossed and even though Grimmjow could understand how Ichigo would have been pissed and hurt, he still didn't believe it justified fucking with Ginjou.

A Blood, of all people.

Why couldn't Ichigo have chosen a common dude? Why did he have to make it impossible for things to be ironed out?

Bruno Mars' voice rose over the sound of the waves again, making Grimmjow sigh. He felt comfortable letting his emotions go at the river. No one came around after a certain time and the place had become his safe haven. All the times he'd felt like going to find Ichigo and demand an explanation, or an apology at the least, he forced himself to take that drive up to the river, so he could smoke and calm his nerves. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tame those urges, however. The way things were going, it appeared that Ichigo had managed to delve more deeply under his skin than Yero.

Grimmjow swallowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He wanted to see Ichigo. Alone at the river, Grimmjow could admit to himself that he'd opened up and fallen. Hard. It was pathetic and almost demeaning, but it was also the truth. That one night with Ichigo had tipped the scales that had already been leaning precariously in Ichigo's favor anyway. Shaking his head, Grimmjow took another pull from the blunt, then tossed the roach into the river.

He _missed_ the orange-haired man. How fucking sad was that? There was a brief pause before Bruno started up again, the lilting tune in the background caressing the air. Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, angry with himself for shooting Ichigo first, then asking Shinji questions afterward. He'd been so relieved that he hadn't hit his mark: Ichigo's chest. His mind had been so fucked up, he hadn't even been able to concentrate, which he supposed was a good thing in the long run.

What would Ichigo say to him if he just showed up again? Would he be scared? Would he be pissed? Had Shinji or Ichigo's twin, Shiro, explained the tangling of communication? Grimmjow grimaced. He sounded like a fool. Even if things had been explained, there was no way Grimmjow could just overlook the fact that Ichigo had been dealing with one of the enemy.

Fuck.

Maybe it was better that he just let things be; let Ichigo go his own way. The very thought tightened his abdomen and made his heart ache desperately. That was impossible. There was no way he could just forget about Ichigo so easily. Grimmjow hopped off the banister and meandered to his car, his stomach rumbling loudly. He supposed he should get some food. He knew of a nice little diner that was open all night, where he could go and have a bit of peace and quiet, as well as a good meal. He climbed into the royal blue vehicle, shut the doors and started the engine. It growled to life and he peeled away from the river, Lil Wayne preaching through the speakers.

**XxxxxX**

Grimmjow pulled into the nearly empty lot of the diner and parked. He lowered his music before shutting off the engine and climbing from the low car, his stomach still protesting loudly. He tugged on the brim of his arctic gray fitted and straightened the collar of his matching, leather jacket. He stuffed his keys into his back pocket and made sure his wallet was where it was supposed to be before he ambled into the dimly lit diner. The entrance was decorated with pictures of skulls, crossbones and scary-looking pumpkins, reminding Grimmjow that Halloween was right around the corner. It always reminded him of the time he'd been jumped into his family.

He casually approached the hostess and gave her a quick once-over. It was a habit of his to remember what everyone he encountered looked like. The girl was average height, had dark, spiky hair and dark eyes. She stared right back at him, but the look on her face made bells go off in Grimmjow's head. Why was she looking at him like she recognized him?

"Table for one?" she asked, her voice a little husky and boyish.

"Yeah," he grunted, still studying her carefully.

She grabbed a menu and led him to a corner of the diner that was nicely secluded. She set the menu on the table as he went about removing his jacket. He didn't notice her eyes going to the small of his back where he kept his Sig, but he did notice the way her voice changed as she rattled off the diner's specials. He took a seat and browsed the menu, already knowing what he wanted, but curious anyway.

"Would you like something to drink to get you started?"

He nodded. "Raspberry iced tea."

"OK. Any appetizers? Or would you like more time to look things over?"

"Nah, I don' need more time. Gimme the buffalo wings for the appetizer and the fried shrimp and steak dinner. Make the steak medium well."

"OK. The dinner comes with a soup or salad. Which-"

"Salad. Tossed, no onions, ranch dressing," he interrupted.

The girl nodded, her hand flying over the pad she held. "I'll have your drink in a second."

"Thanks," he grunted, eager for her to leave.

Grimmjow didn't like the vibe she emanated, so when she grabbed his menu and made her way back to the kitchen, he was grateful. He absently studied the silverware wrapped in a white napkin. His behavior after he'd witnessed Ginjou with Ichigo had been scary even to himself. He'd never been that out of body and mind before. It just solidified his suspicions. He'd known the _whole time_ he'd dealt with Ichigo that there was the danger of him getting too close. Everything about the orange-haired man had been perfect and right and comfortable.

The girl returned with a tall, perspiring glass of raspberry iced tea and set it on the table along with a straw. "Here ya go," she said. "The salad will be out in just a minute."

"Aight."

With that, she disappeared again and left Grimmjow to his thoughts once more. He grabbed the straw, ripped the paper away from it and stuck it into the glass. After downing half the contents, he closed his eyes and sat back against the hard, leather cushion of the seat. He forced himself to think about other things, forced his mind to wonder what was going on with Di Roy, instead of traveling down the familiar road of wanting to see Ichigo.

Di Roy had been acting peculiar whenever Grimmjow had gone to the block. He was still his enthusiastic self, but it seemed like the teen was hiding something. Grimmjow _hated_ that feeling; it always made him suspicious and he really didn't want to be suspicious of someone he considered a little brother. Yet, why the hell had Di disappeared several times after receiving a phone call? He never spoke normally during those calls, either. It was always in code, like he didn't want Grimmjow to know who he was talking to, or what he was talking about. It was annoying, but Grimmjow brushed it aside, chalking the strange behavior up to teenager shit. There was a lot he didn't understand about kids in general. Hell, even when he'd been a teen, he hadn't gone through all of that awkward shit. He'd always been tall, even in grammar school, he'd never had acne or anything like that, but his voice _had_ gone through the squeaky change. It had only lasted for about a couple of weeks before it'd deepened and returned to normal.

Grimmjow had always been aware that he wasn't into girls, so he'd never gone through the awkward stages of dating and whatnot. He'd dropped out of high school his sophomore year, and from there the rest was history. However, Di was still in high school and the kid had braces to boot. There was bound to be some kick-back from that. Grimmjow unwrapped his utensils as he watched the waitress/hostess make her way back to him, holding a white, porcelain saucer filled with salad. She set it on the table in front of him and retrieved two small, plastic containers of ranch dressing from the pocket of her apron.

Stomach growling noisily, Grimmjow nodded his thanks and dug in. He spread the dressing over the lettuce, mixed it all together and speared a cucumber with his fork. Five minutes of clinking saw the salad completely gone and Grimmjow sipping the rest of his tea. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and sat back in the seat again. His stomach was still grumbling impatiently for more food, but his attention was suddenly on the small commotion at the diner's entrance. He turned his head towards the door and stared, apprehension crawling up his spine and settling at the base of his neck. He recognized two of the voices over the one belonging to the hostess.

Grimmjow watched warily as ash-white hair came into view, that pale skin unmistakable. He didn't want to move for fear of bringing unnecessary attention his way. Since when did Ichigo's twin frequent this side of town? Over the sounds of pots clanking, Grimmjow heard Shiro speaking to the hostess in an all too familiar manner.

"Yo, Tatsuki! Er should I call ya Shorty?"

The hostess growled and slapped a menu against Shiro's chest. "Smoking or non?"

"Don' matter. Long as I get some food, you can sit me outside!"

Shiro was obviously drunk. His voice was entirely too loud and he was also swaying on his feet. Grimmjow lowered his head and glanced away. He had terrible luck. Behind Shiro was the man he'd wanted to see so badly, but at the same time knew was horribly unwise. He tugged on the brim of his fitted and slouched in his seat, hoping it would keep the twins from noticing him and having something unfortunate occur. Grimmjow was still uncertain of how Ichigo would react upon seeing him again. He didn't even know if Ichigo knew exactly _why_ Grimmjow had shot him.

The hostess, Tatsuki, led Shiro and Ichigo over to the other side of the diner and seated them. Shiro sat with his back to Grimmjow, leaving Ichigo facing in his direction. Perfect. Now all the orange-haired man had to do was look up and see him and all hell would break loose. Tatsuki left their menus on the table and walked away, heading towards the kitchen. Grimmjow noticed that his buffalo wings were done and she was going to retrieve them, more than likely bringing them over to his table. He hadn't been this uncomfortable in a while. Trying his hardest not to shift in place, he kept his head down and waited for the dark-haired hostess to bring him his food.

She approached him and set the small basket in front of him, the smell of hot sauce and other spices drifting into his nose and distracting his stomach, if not his conscience. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Ya wanna a refill?" she asked, pointing at his empty glass.

He nodded, but kept his head lowered, feeling disturbingly like he was hiding. In truth, he was. He really didn't want to be seen by Ichigo right now, especially not knowing the man's current state of mind. He knew his thoughts made him seem like a coward, but he was far beyond that. He wasn't a coward; he just didn't want to make the situation any worse than it already was.

Unfortunately, Shiro used that time to twist in his seat and look over his shoulder, shouting for Tatsuki. "Shorty, where's my fuckin'-"

Grimmjow didn't even have to look up to know he'd been spotted and that that was the reason for Shiro's sudden silence. Grimmjow shook his head slowly. Now what? Maybe he should just leave while things were only relatively bad. He slowly lifted his head and first glanced at Tatsuki, who was frozen in place, alternating looks between Grimmjow and Shiro. After that, he looked at Shiro and hid an automatic smirk at the expression the albino wore. The man's mouth was wide open, his chin nearly touching his collar bone and he too was frozen in place. Grimmjow hesitated only briefly before turning his attention to Ichigo. Ichigo seemed paralyzed as well, his deep brown eyes wide and shining, and his face pale.

With a grimace, Grimmjow leaned over and reached for his wallet. That was one thing he didn't want to see at the moment. He didn't think he had it in him to deal with Ichigo's fear of him anymore. Earlier, when they'd first met, sure. He'd even enjoyed it when Ichigo had been a little intimidated and scared of him. Not now, though. Grimmjow kind of wanted things to return to how they'd been the last night he and Ichigo had spent together. Shaking his head again, he pulled out a few bills and placed them on the table, ready to rise, gather his jacket and leave the diner.

He stood, slipped into his jacket and glanced down at the hostess, smirking when he noticed she was staring at him. "A-aren't you gonna eat?" she asked.

"Nah. Not here anyway. Think ya c'n wrap that up for me?" he returned quietly.

She nodded and hurried off, scowling in Shiro's direction, who was miraculously still quiet as he stared at Grimmjow from across the diner. Grimmjow wanted to laugh, but he maintained his indifferent expression. Shiro had always been a funny guy, so it was no surprise that his reaction was quite comical. Ichigo on the other hand just continued to stare at Grimmjow with those soft brown eyes wide as ever.

On second thought, maybe he didn't need that food.

Grimmjow headed to the diner's entrance/exit, but before he could reach the door, Tatsuki was on his heels, his food neatly packed into a white, styrofoam container and a white, plastic bag. Grimmjow accepted it and nodded before heading out the door and back into the night towards his car. His heart was jumping around excitedly and his hands were shaking. OK. He finally had the glimpse he'd wanted so badly of Ichigo. Now, he could go on about his business and hopefully forget about the orange-haired man in the process.

"Hey! Wait!"

Grimmjow froze, his steps immediately coming to a halt. He stood staring at his car in disbelief as he listened to the sound of footsteps hurrying to catch up with him. He slowly turned, eyes wide and body numb. There were no words he could come up with to describe the way he felt at the moment as he stared into Ichigo's troubled face. All he could do was tug uneasily on the brim of his fitted and shift his weight. He felt like a fool for being so uncomfortable in front of a man he'd once teased and mistreated so easily.

"I think maybe we should talk," Ichigo said.

Grimmjow gave a stiff nod. "So, talk."

XOXOXO

**Two Hours Earlier**

"C'mon, King. Get yer ass outta bed! This shit's not healthy!" Shiro scolded from Ichigo's bedroom doorway.

Ichigo rolled onto his side, facing away from his annoying brother and huffed. "I ain't goin'," he snapped. Ichigo growled under his breath when he heard Shiro's feet shuffling across the carpet. "Get out, you irritating prick!"

Shiro cackled and the next thing Ichigo knew, he was being crushed by his brother's weight. "Heh. I ain't lettin' ya go back ta sleep, King, so ya might as well get outta bed already."

Ichigo moaned shifted underneath Shiro, simultaneously trying to get the man off of him. "Alright! I'll get up! Just get the fuck offa me!"

"Haha!" Shiro chuckled as he jumped from the bed and landed quietly on the floor. "We're goin' out tanight an' I ain't takin' 'no' for an answer."

Ichigo rolled onto his back and glared at his brother over the edge of his blanket. "What about Shinji? I thought he didn't want you out and about right now?"

Shiro shrugged and marched over to Ichigo's closet. "Yeah. That's what he said, but I'm sick a'bein' cooped up in the house all the damned time. I wanna go hang out, get drunk, maybe get high, _then_ come back and hear his mouth. Ya mind?"

Ichigo had to hide his sudden grin. Shinji and Shiro had been going at it for the past few days after Shinji had explained to them both that Grimmjow had tried to send him a text, stating his whereabouts, but Shinji had never received it. For some strange reason, Shiro thought this was Shinji's fault and had been giving the blond a severely hard time. Ichigo just found it highly amusing.

However, aside from Shiro and Shinji's constant bickering, he'd fallen back into a depression, except this time it didn't lead him to have sex with random men or even Ginjou. After Shiro had given Ichigo that note, Ichigo had immediately stopped talking to the Blood. He knew it was a lost cause, though. Something like "too little, too late." How was he to know that Grimmjow had in fact tried to keep in touch with him? How was he supposed to have known that Grimmjow hadn't just up and left him like all those other times? The resulting questions and guilt had left him bedridden for the next week. Shiro had been there, constantly trying to persuade him to get his ass out of bed and do something, but Ichigo hadn't really been trying to hear it.

He wanted to see Grimmjow. He wanted to apologize to him and beg for forgiveness. Yet, he was afraid for his life as well. He wasn't sure if Shinji had explained to Grimmjow that Ichigo had never gotten his note, and even if he had, it still didn't mean anything. Ichigo had fucked with one of Grimmjow's enemies, knowingly, even if at the time he'd been hurt and angry and believing the worst of Grimmjow. It hadn't been any excuse in his eyes. Now Ichigo knew exactly why Grimmjow had flipped out and shot him. That kind of betrayal didn't come without repercussions of some sort, especially not to a man that killed people regularly.

Aside from the danger factor and even the guilt factor, Ichigo just felt alone. He'd finally found someone to hopefully be with and he'd fucked it all up. For as long as he'd been in the bed wallowing, he'd imagined seeking out the dangerous blue-haired man, but kept thinking otherwise because...well...let's face it: he loved his life. His mind was in turmoil, swinging back and forth between tossing caution to the wind by going to find Grimmjow to explain, and remaining where he was with his life in tact.

It was pretty obvious where that mental pendulum had left him. On the right side of safe.

A balled up pair of boxers hit Ichigo in the face, making him scowl and snatch them away. "What the hell? These better not be yours, bitch!" he snapped.

Shiro cackled again and danced out of Ichigo's closet, a pair of royal-blue skinny jeans and a white, fitted Henley shirt in his arms. He dumped the clothing onto the bed and went to Ichigo's dresser. "Those ain't mine, but if ya don' get up an' go wash yer ass soon, I'll have no problem tossin' mine atcha."

Ichigo wrinkled his nose in distaste and threw back the blanket. That was something he absolutely did _not_ want. Perfect motivation to get his ass in the shower, actually. He situated himself on the edge of the bed before slipping his feet into the fuzzy pink and white bunny slippers Shiro had given as a gag gift. It was OK because the slippers were comfortable and he only wore them in the house. Now, Shiro on the other hand had to deal with the bright pink briefs and tank that Ichigo had bought for him in return.

Grinning, Ichigo climbed to his feet and trudged over to his dresser, where he extracted a clean pair of boxer briefs and white socks before absently making his way to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

**XxxxxX**

An hour later, Ichigo was freshly dressed, hair combed and brushed into something resembling order and body smelling like soap and his favorite cologne for a change. It was refreshing to feel like the old him. Shiro left his bedroom and met Ichigo in the living room, his face carefree and grin wide. Shinji had stepped out apparently, leaving Shiro free to go where he pleased without any contradictions or protests. Ichigo grinned as he watched his twin nearly skipping with glee.

"Ya ready?" Shiro asked as he stopped in front of the apartment door.

"I was waitin' on you."

"Then, let's go."

Ichigo chuckled as he followed behind Shiro down the stairs and out to his car that hadn't been moved in what seemed like forever. Ichigo unlocked his neglected baby and slid inside, running his palms over the wood grain steering wheel. He started the engine and jerked, appalled at the amount of gas in the tank.

"Well, that won't do," he mumbled to himself.

Shiro hopped into the passenger seat and gave Ichigo an amused, sideways glance. "Tha's what happens when ya get all depressed an' shit," he stated smugly.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and secured his seat belt before peeling away from the curb, headed for the closest gas station. He reached into his gray hoodie pocket and pulled a CD out before slipping it into the car radio. He cranked the volume when B.O.B. jumped from the speakers, rapping about Strange Clouds, bass shaking the pavement and vibrating the interior of the vehicle.

Ichigo stopped at a light and glanced over at his brother. "Where's the piff, Shiro?"

Shiro grinned, the corners of his mouth reaching his sideburns. He reached into the pocket of his black hoodie and shook a medium-sized baggie back and forth in the air. "I got that sticky-icky right here," he sang.

Ichigo cracked a genuine grin for the first time in a long time as he pulled away from the light. He turned the corner and drove into the lot of the gas station. When he stopped beside the pump, he turned to Shiro and handed him a crisp ten dollar bill. "Ima need a Bluntville, a bottle of peach iced tea and a pack of peppermint gum. Think you can take care a'that?"

Shiro snatched the money and tossed the baggie into Ichigo's lap with a sneer. After that, he flipped Ichigo the bird, climbed out of the car and went into the little convenience store connected to the gas station. Ichigo lifted the baggie to his nose and inhaled deeply, sincerely missing the scent of marijuana. The baggie had to be filled with potent Blueberry Haze because it was Shiro's favorite and Ichigo recognized the smell.

The gas attendant stalked over just as Ichigo rolled the window down and pocketed the bag of weed. The short brunet stuck his hands into the pockets of his black coverall. "How much ya need?" he asked.

Ichigo retrieved his wallet and withdrew a fifty. "Yeah, fill it up."

The brunet nodded and went about sticking the gas nozzle into the tank opening. Ichigo leaned back against the seat and zoned to the song pumping through the speakers. It was a new joint by Lil Wayne and Bruno Mars. The melody made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up. It sounded like something he would listen to while he was depressed and oddly, it made him think of Grimmjow. Ichigo shook his head, clearing away thoughts of that sort. He was supposed to be out to forget about Grimmjow for the time being. It might help if Shiro hurried the hell up with the rolling material. If Ichigo was high, he wouldn't have to worry about thoughts of Grimmjow plaguing him.

As if he could read minds, Shiro opened the passenger door and hopped back inside the car. He tossed a twenty ounce bottle and pack of gum into Ichigo's lap, along with the gold package containing the Bluntville.

"Roll up, bitch!" Shiro exclaimed, face lit up.

"Don't you need your alcohol first?"

Shiro nodded and pointed to the corner. "Hit the LQ around the corner."

"Aight. Where we goin' after that?"

"Loop."

Ichigo shook his head immediately. That was where he'd met Ginjou and there was no telling if the man still frequented the laid back lounge. Ichigo didn't want to run the risk of bumping into the dark-haired Blood after ignoring his calls for the past week. Not to mention, it'd be just his luck to run into Ginjou and Grimmjow at the same time.

Shuddering, Ichigo shook his head again. "No. I heard there's this new place over by Springwood."

"By the river?" Shiro asked incredulously.

"Yeah. At least we don't know anyone over there and can chill without incident."

Shiro studied the side of Ichigo's face for a bit before nodding and facing the windshield. "Cool."

Ichigo twisted in his seat, wondering what was taking the gas attendant so long. Just as he leaned over the door frame, the attendant ambled over, his hand held out for the cash in Ichigo's hand. The total had come to forty-three bucks.

"Keep the change."

With that, he squealed out of the lot and turned the corner, pulling up in front of a liquor store. Shiro hopped out again, grin back and a mile wide. "Be right back," he said before slamming the door shut.

Ichigo nodded and used that time to break open the Bluntville. He dug out the bag of Blueberry in his pocket and quickly, expertly rolled up a blunt. The scent was driving him nuts and he was tempted to light up right there, but he knew that was hazardous. He set the blunt in the ashtray and as soon as he did, Shiro was sliding back into the car, a blue plastic bag hanging from his right arm.

"Leggo!" he shouted.

Ichigo chuckled, but took off for the new club on the other side of town.

**XxxxxX**

The place was called Bliss and it was lit up like a Christmas tree. The outside of the sports bar/club had a walkway spread with a bright melon orange carpet and a matching entrance canopy. The surrounding hedges were placed close to the building and hid movie premier type lights that alternated between bright blue and neon purple. Music floated outside and got Ichigo in the mood to two-step (he didn't dance), but he had to get right first.

Shiro was way ahead of him on cup five from the bottle of Peach Ciroc that he mixed with Tropicana Peach Orchard Punch. Ichigo had to admit the mixture was a good one; he'd already had two cups of the stuff. But drinking wasn't his thing. He was ready to smoke and go inside the club. From what he'd heard so far, the DJ seemed to be killing the tracks.

He leaned towards the ash tray and plucked the already rolled blunt from it, turning a sideways glance to his brother. "You smokin' too?"

Shiro glared at him. "Ya thought all that was fer you?"

Ichigo grinned and shrugged. "I don' know. I was hoping you were in a charitable mood. You know, getting me outta my slump an' all."

Guilt trips _always_ worked on Shiro, especially coming from Ichigo.

"Lemme jus' get a couple pulls then," Shiro muttered, turning back to the window, where he'd been watching the people come and go.

Ichigo grinned like he'd just won the lottery and lit up eagerly. That first pull sent his head sailing away. It'd been a week since he'd last indulged and the Blueberry was making that fact very known. He took a few more pulls before handing the blunt over to his brother. Shiro accepted it gingerly, his eyelids already low from the alcohol he'd consumed. Ichigo immediately cracked open his bottle of peach iced tea and downed half of it in one go. He couldn't do that with that Ciroc. Shiro would be carrying him home if he did. After finishing the bottle off, he popped a stick of gum in his mouth and deaded the blunt Shiro was handing back to him. His eyes had been bigger than his system. He was high as a satellite, eyelids lowering and heart racing madly. He felt amazing.

"Ready ta go in?" Shiro asked.

Ichigo felt the urge to giggle out of nowhere, but nodded, a sneaky grin settling over his lips. "Hell yeah," he drawled, his speech slow and lazy.

Shiro nodded and they both left the Chevy, Ichigo feeling like a million dollars on Christmas morning. Luckily, there was no line at the door of Bliss and Shiro and Ichigo were able to enter right away after flashing IDs. Where the outside of the club looked like the Fourth of July, the inside resembled a darkened bedroom. The only lights came from the ceiling and the huge bar at the other end of the spacious dance floor. Ichigo spotted the DJ booth off to the right of the bar. The area was lit with a black light and he was able to spot the DJ. A wide grin stretched his lips when he recognized the bobbing head of violet. Lloyd's "Pusha" dumped from the speakers and made the floor of the place feel like a trampoline. So many people were dancing, it trembled and shook.

Ichigo immediately fell into a two-step, his shoulders keeping tune with the bass of the song. Shiro did the same, his head nodding back and forth and eyes crinkled in the corners from his wide smile. Ichigo really did feel like a new man. He hadn't had this much fun in a really long time and it had been way overdue. Ichigo stepped his way over to the DJ booth and held up a hand. The violet-haired beauty lifted her head and grinned when she recognized him, her golden eyes bright and mischievous. Yoruichi lowered one ear of the headphones she wore and yelled over the deafening music. Ichigo was too far away from her to understand shit she'd said, so he tentatively stepped over wires and eased behind the turntables next to her.

Yoruichi leaned forward and yelled into the mic, "Bring it back!" The song restarted and the club-goers writhed in the middle of the floor like one huge human wave.

Ichigo grinned and leaned towards her ear. "Where's Tatsuki?"

Yoruichi pouted as she lowered the other ear of the headphones and leaned closer to his ear. "She's workin'!" she yelled, her voice husky and smoky.

Ichigo nodded his understanding. "She still at the toy store?"

"No, she works at the diner a little way from here."

"Oh yeah?" Ichigo asked, surprised. "When did that happen?"

"'Bout a week or two ago. You should go there when you leave here. She'll give you her discount!" Yoruichi said with a chuckle and a twinkle in her feral eyes.

Ichigo joined the laughter and nodded. Food did sound pretty spectacular at the moment. Ichigo chatted it up with Yoruichi a bit more before shoving off to find his wayward brother. The club was packed and hot as hell, but Ichigo would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the atmosphere immensely.

**XxxxxX**

"I'm fuckin' hungry!" Ichigo growled, dragging his idiot twin to his car.

"But, Kiiiinnnggg," Shiro whined. "I was havin' fun!"

"Yeah, so was I, but I need food. Le's go!"

"Aww, mannnn! I hate you sometimes."

"Liar."

Shiro giggled and sagged against the door frame of Ichigo's Chevy while Ichigo unlocked it. Shiro slid in bonelessly and Ichigo closed the door for him, shaking his head as he did so. Shiro hadn't gotten this drunk in a long time, but it was nice to see. It meant his brother felt good enough to get that fucked up. Ichigo ambled over to the driver's side and poured himself behind the wheel, his own body on cloud nine. He was still a little high, but it was the hungry, buzzed kind of high and not the intense feeling he'd been experiencing when he'd first gone into the club. He started the car and pulled out of the still full lot, mind completely focused on the diner Yoruichi had mentioned earlier. He needed food and lots of it.

Although Ichigo had been enjoying himself, it still hadn't prevented his thoughts from inevitably landing on the blue-haired man that occupied half his brain these days. He wondered what Grimmjow was up to. Was he OK? Ichigo hoped he hadn't pushed him over the edge completely. He already felt like shit, but if that had happened, he would feel even worse. Ichigo rubbed his chin and glanced over at Shiro. His twin was nodding off against the window, his mouth open and drool hanging from the corner of it. The sight immediately made Ichigo chuckle. Poor guy.

Ichigo wound through the streets, following the directions Yoruichi had given him. Finally, he spotted a light-blue entrance canopy that sported the name Sand and Sea Diner. The front doors were decorated with Halloween decorations and it made Ichigo smile. There were two entrances: one in back and one in front. Ichigo pulled into the one in back and parked, deciding not to blind his brother with the inhumanly bright parking lot lights. He parked and killed the engine, then turned to stare at Shiro. Shiro was slumped inside his hoodie and snoring away. Ichigo chuckled and shook his head before reaching over and nudging Shiro's shoulder.

"Ay," he said softly. Loud enough to get Shiro's attention hopefully, but not loud enough to scare him. "We're here."

Shiro blinked and smacked his lips a few times before looking around. "Oh, shit," he drawled.

Ichigo was sent into a fit of laughter at the distant look in Shiro's eyes. "C'mon, idiot." Shiro stumbled from the car, but Ichigo was there to keep him on his feet. "You need to sober up some. Eat somethin' and drink some coffee."

"No way," Shiro said with a lazy smirk. "I like bein' fucked up."

"I see," Ichigo said with a chortle.

They trooped through the doors of the diner and Ichigo grinned at the sight of his long time friend. Tatsuki had cut her hair into short, spiky locks and was wearing a white button-up shirt, black slacks and a black apron. She looked very greasy chic.

"Yo, Tatsuki! Er should I call ya Shorty?" Shiro greeted loudly, announcing his inebriated state.

Ichigo shook his head as Tatsuki growled and slammed a menu into Shiro's chest. "Smoking or non?"

Ichigo tuned out the rest of the conversation as he looked around the small entrance. It was a bit tiny, but it seemed comfortable and welcoming. He came back to reality just in time to follow behind Tatsuki and Shiro to a table to the right of the entrance. He plopped down and instantly ordered Shiro a coffee and himself an iced tea. Tatsuki grinned and stuck her writing pad into the pocket of her apron.

"What the hell're you idiots doin' here?" she asked.

Ichigo gave her a toothy grin. "Yoruichi told us ta come see you."

Tatsuki sighed, but grinned. "So ya went ta Bliss, then?"

"Yeah. It was pretty cool, too."

"Ay!" Shiro interrupted. "I wan' mah coffee, ya know? Do yer job!"

Tatsuki swatted Shiro on the head with his own menu before dropping it back to the table and heading off to the kitchen. Ichigo toyed with his wrapped utensils as his mind went places it didn't need to be. He couldn't help it though. He really wanted to just apologize for being so fucking stupid, but he was sure Grimmjow wouldn't want to hear that. He was sure the man would stare at him coldly before shooting him again. Ichigo shook his head, unaware of the look of concern Shiro was sending him.

Suddenly, Ichigo perked up at the sound of Shiro's angry voice, shouting at Tatsuki no doubt. Ready to scold his twin, Ichigo looked up and instantly turned into a block of ice. Shiro was equally shocked, but only because no one but Shinji had seen the man sitting across the diner in the past week since he'd shot Ichigo. Ichigo was paralyzed for an entirely different reason. Seeing Grimmjow in person made him realize just how much he'd missed him. How much he'd regretted what he'd done after Shiro showed him that note.

Grimmjow had his head down, but it was obvious that he knew Ichigo and Shiro were there from the way his head shook back and forth a couple times. A gray fitted was pulled down over his forehead, a matching gray jacket on the seat beside him. God, he looked good enough to frame. Ichigo let his eyes quickly sweep the man's tall form. His legs were stretched out under the table, clad in a pair of dark gray jeans, and his upper body was fit snugly into a light gray, long-sleeved thermal shirt. Ichigo swallowed thickly, wishing he had that iced tea already.

Just as he thought he was growing accustomed to seeing Grimmjow again, the man lifted his head and glanced first at Tatsuki, then at Shiro and lastly at him. Ichigo felt like someone had dipped him into the ice cold water underneath the frozen top layer of a river. His body immediately stiffened and all the blood left his face. Was Grimmjow pissed with him? Did he still wanna kill him? Oh shit!

Ichigo's stomach did enthusiastic flips and somersaults as he was held helplessly in place, staring warily at the blue-haired man. Their eyes were locked until Grimmjow shook his head and averted his gaze. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow went for his wallet, a confused scowl marring his brow. Grimmjow didn't seem pissed. In fact, his eyes had told an entirely different story. They seemed...guilty...remorseful even. Ichigo was blind to everything and everyone else other than Grimmjow. He watched the man gather his things and drop money on his table, obviously not intending to stay and finish his food.

Ichigo was baffled and excited all at the same time. If Grimmjow wasn't mad at him, maybe he had a chance to speak to him without getting shot and killed. He squirmed in his seat, his mind in an uproar. He fought and bickered with himself.

 _'Go!'_ his conscience screamed. _'Talk to him!'_

 _'No,'_ he argued back. _'What if he tries to kill me again?'_

_'Dummy! If he was trying to kill you the first time, you'd be dead! Go talk to him!'_

_'I-I can't! I'm scared!'_

_'He's leaving! Quick! Go to him!'_

" _I-I'm scared!'_

_'GO!'_

Ichigo leaped from his seat like it was on fire when he saw Grimmjow leave the diner. He ignored Shiro's call as he hurried through the doors, his heart shuddering and body trembling. If Grimmjow was going to kill him, then he would just have to die, but at least Ichigo would have the satisfaction of knowing he'd had the chance to apologize.

"Hey! Wait!" he called out to Grimmjow's retreating back. Grimmjow immediately stopped, as if Ichigo had him on a leash. It brought Ichigo up short as he watched the taller man slowly turn to face him. There was that look again. Grimmjow didn't look pissed at all. His brows were up around his hairline, his mesmerizing blue eyes wide. Ichigo shuffled his feet, but found the courage to forge ahead. "I think maybe we should talk."

Grimmjow nodded. "So, talk."

Well, that was more than Ichigo had been expecting. Grateful for the chance, he forced himself to speak normally. "I, I, I..." or so he'd thought. Grimmjow tilted his head to the side and blinked, his eyebrows finally relaxing into their normal expression. Ichigo choked on his saliva and took a deep breath, tempted to fan himself to calm down. He felt like he was close to hyperventilating. He was so keyed up, he didn't notice Grimmjow moving, until the man was directly in front of him, crowding his space like he used to.

That made speech veritably impossible for Ichigo. He couldn't concentrate on anything other than Grimmjow's tempting smell that had always been addictive, and the heat brought about by the man's closeness. Grimmjow's eyes were on fire as he stared down at Ichigo and it made Ichigo wish things were different. This would normally be where he'd throw his arms around Grimmjow's neck and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. He'd finally managed to get around Grimmjow's iron defenses, only to throw it all away because he'd jumped to conclusions. He hadn't trusted the man enough.

Ichigo felt his eyes stinging as he silently stared. He was letting his chance to apologize slip away. Not only that, but he was about to do something completely humiliating in front of the man that had shot him...but had cared enough about him to try to change. No matter how hard he tried to fight them, the tears came anyway. Ichigo lowered his head and stared at his sneakers. He didn't know what to say to Grimmjow. Maybe he should just turn around and go back inside the diner; forget he'd ever seen the blue-haired man.

Ichigo ran an agitated hand through his hair, still avoiding Grimmjow's eyes. Tears streaked his cheeks and made him feel like crawling under a rock. How embarrassing. How humiliating. How-

A strong hand gripped his chin and tilted it up. Ichigo jumped in surprise and simply stared. So many emotions were careening around inside him. Grimmjow was _so_ close. What was he doing? Those multi-blue eyes were suddenly soft and concerned. Ichigo swallowed forcefully again. What was Grimmjow doing? He still hadn't said anything; hell, neither had Ichigo. It seemed like they'd had a whole conversation just by looking at one another, until Ichigo had been overwhelmed by his guilt.

Grimmjow's body edged even closer, closing off any space that may have been left between them. Finally, his head tilted down and his lips parted. Ichigo stopped breathing.

"You do that to me again, and I promise I _will_ kill you," Grimmjow said slowly, his words free of slang.

Ichigo could do nothing but stare helplessly. What? Was Grimmjow really giving him another chance? No way. That was too good to be true...right? Ichigo blinked through the tears huddled on his lashes and leaned forward very carefully. His hands came up and tentatively gripped Grimmjow's coat. If Grimmjow wanted to reject him, now was the time to do it, and Ichigo had made it impossible to deny whatever the outcome would be. Again, he held his breath and waited for Grimmjow to react, the man's scent overwhelming him.

There was a long pause before Grimmjow's hands came up around Ichigo and squeezed him to his chest. Ichigo let his breath go with a loud whoosh as fresh tears found their way down his face. That had to be a good sign, right? Grimmjow sighed and rested his chin on top of Ichigo's head.

"I mean that shit, Ichigo," he rumbled.

Ichigo nodded, just grateful to have another chance with the man he'd obviously fallen for. "I know," he said, his voice muffled by Grimmjow's leather jacket. "I know."

Grimmjow pulled out of the embrace first, making Ichigo look up at him. Blue brows were pulled into a scowl, but those blue eyes were like warm blue pudding, if such a thing existed. Feeling more bold since Grimmjow had essentially given him another chance, Ichigo put his arms around the taller man's neck and stood on his toes, feeling distinctly like a girl. That wary look was back in Grimmjow's eyes, but Ichigo had a way to banish it.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispered.

Grimmjow stared, but his eyebrows relaxed again and a smirk tilted his lips upwards. Ichigo had expected a smart remark, but then again, after he returned Grimmjow's smile and leaned closer, he realized that he should have remembered that Grimmjow was a man of few words. Their lips met and Ichigo sighed into it, his body going numb again. Grimmjow's arms tightened around him as he returned the gentle pressure with more aggression. As soon as Grimmjow's tongue entered Ichigo's mouth, a loud voice interrupted them.

"AWWWWWWW!"

Ichigo jumped, surprised, but then again, not really. He didn't know how he'd forgotten about his idiot brother.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

"Right there!"

"Right there?"

"Yeah, dammit!"

Di Roy cracked a smug grin, his grip tightening on Jinta's waist. The red head was bent over his dresser, face flushed and body covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Perspiration slid down the back of his neck and down the sides of his face, his bright red hair was plastered to his head, and his steel gray eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. Di Roy thought he was beautiful. Why it had taken him so long to see what was right in front of his face was beyond him.

His hands slid up Jinta's slick back before settling on a slim shoulder, his fingers curling over it and grasping. Jinta's body was so hot, like he had a fever, and it made Di Roy giddy with arrogance to know that _he_ was the cause. Before the other night with the other teen in the motel room, Di Roy had never had sex with another boy before. Hell, he hadn't known he was even remotely attracted to the same gender in the first place. But then again, that was understandable. In the grand scheme of things, he wasn't. Jinta was the only guy he would ever look at that way.

Di Roy jerked, his hips forming a mind of their own as his orgasm built. Sex had never felt as good as it did with Jinta and strangely, he was OK with the fact that he had himself buried in a part of the body he'd only ever considered an exit. Jinta seemed to make everything about being with a guy feel fine. Perfect, actually. Di Roy bent over the shorter boy's arched back and gently kissed his moist shoulder. He knew he was feeling things that he'd never felt before. He knew it was dangerous for his well-being as well; he'd learned that much from G. Speaking of G, Di Roy hadn't been able to talk about Jinta to the man he considered an older brother. It didn't make sense either, since Di Roy knew that G was gay himself.

He was abruptly snatched out of his thoughts by Jinta's deep voice going a few pitches higher. The red head's hands gripped the edge of the dresser harder than before and his mouth fell open. Di Roy grinned. Jinta was about to come. He'd learned to recognize the tell-tale signs and exploit them. He quickened his pace, added more force to his thrusts, and reached around the other boy's waist to wrap long fingers around his straining length. Only problem was, Jinta's hand was already around it. Di Roy chuckled and tried to remove the boy's hand, but Jinta's hand was locked, his body jerking and twitching, shuddering and tensing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the red head chanted desperately.

He was on his toes, pushing back to meet Di Roy's hips in a dance as old as time, making Di Roy grit his teeth and growl under his breath. His hands went back to Jinta's hips as he went even harder, his head falling back and eyes rolling shut. This was the part that made it difficult to last through Jinta's orgasms. The shorter boy would get so enthusiastic, so passionate, so fucking wild, Di Roy was never able to last. Which was why every time they had sex, he made it his business to hold out just a little longer than the last time.

A sudden tightening around his erection signaled Jinta's release. Di Roy clenched his teeth together and whimpered to himself. He could do it, he could do it, he could-

The other boy's insides started spasming uncontrollably and it was like a sensuous massage to the shaft. He couldn't hold on after that. Di Roy dug his fingers into Jinta's hips and snarled quietly as he came explosively. He shuddered and rested his forehead against the red head's shoulder, breathing harsh and deafening in the silence of Jinta's bedroom. He couldn't move. He felt like his life had been sucked out along with his orgasm.

A soft chuckle made him lift his head some, however. "Yer heavy, dummy."

"My bad," Di Roy chortled.

Easing away from the smaller teen, he shuffled over to the bed and plopped down onto it, his muscles aching and whole body sluggish. He felt like he was high, head swimming from the amount of adrenaline that had been pumping through his system not too long ago. Not even a minute later, his chest was crushed by the weight of his former best friend.

"What the hell, Jinta! Like yer any better?"

The red head cackled and slowly climbed up to straddle Di Roy's waist, hands splayed across his chest. Jinta's smile gradually disappeared and was replaced with a sober stare. It made Di Roy squirm nervously. When Jinta made that face, it usually meant Di Roy was in trouble.

"What I do?" he grumbled.

Jinta cocked his head to the side and studied him. "Nothin'," he grunted. "I just..."

It was Di Roy's turn to tilt his head. "Ya jus' what?"

"I don' know if I should tell ya."

"C'mon, Jinta, don' start that shit again. Talk ta me."

Jinta grimaced, closed his eyes and sighed. Di Roy frowned and ran his hands up and down the shorter boy's sides, trying to soothe him and persuade him to say what was on his mind. It must have worked because in the next moment, Jinta opened his eyes. What Di Roy saw made him sit up on his elbows, but Jinta pushed him back down.

"Lay down."

"What I do, Jinta?" Di Roy asked, voice slightly panicked. "I ain't mean it."

"Stupid," the red-haired teen smiled through the tears sitting on his lashes. "Ya didn' do shit. Stop trippin'."

"That ain't fair. Yer tellin' me ta stop trippin', but yer the one lookin' like yer 'bout ta cry. Wha's wrong?"

Jinta looked him in the eye and said something, but it'd been so silent, Di Roy missed it.

"What?" he asked.

This time Jinta swallowed and cleared his throat before speaking up. "Di, I've been in love with you since I first met you. I don' expect you to say it back to me, but...well...I love you."

Di Roy felt the blood drain from his face before immediately filling back in and making his cheeks, ears and neck burn. His hands on Jinta's waist and sides stilled, face going slack. No one had ever told him they loved him. No one. Not even his parents that were too busy to spend time with him. Was Jinta for real? Or was he just saying that because he thought that was what Di Roy wanted to hear? No, Jinta never said anything that he didn't mean, so that couldn't be it. Then...then that meant the serious teen was telling the truth.

"W-why?" was all Di Roy could come up with.

Jinta shrugged, his narrow shoulders lifting minutely. "Ya remember when we first met, right?"

Even though Di Roy frowned, he still nodded. "Yeah. Freshman year."

"Ya had a fight the first day," Jinta laughed, stormy gray eyes twinkling. "I 'member seein' ya kick the shit outta that asshole Terrell."

"Eh? Tha's why ya – why ya, um..."

Damn, he couldn't even say that word in a normal sentence, unless it had to do with food, music, or weed.

Jinta gave him a warm grin before shaking his head. "No, retard. Shut up an' listen, alright?" Di Roy nodded, allowing the other boy to continue without interruption. "It wasn' really the fight that attracted me ta you; it was yer expression. The look ya had on yer face was so careless. Like you were bored er somethin'. I liked it. It made me wanna know what you were like on a regular basis. That, an-an' I like yer braces," Jinta finished quietly, his cheeks turning pink.

Di Roy grinned through a confused scowl. He usually got joked on for being in high school and still having braces, not admired. That was new.

"My braces?"

Jinta met his amused gaze and gave a crooked smile. "Yeah. I like the contrast. It's like yer this bad-ass troublemaker, but ya got braces. S'cute."

"Heh. I _look good_ ; I ain't _cute_."

The red head shook his head again and leaned forward, gently kissing Di Roy's nose, then lips. It was meant to be a simple kiss, but nothing with Jinta was ever simple. It always turned steamy, passionate, hot. Di Roy placed his hands at the back of the other boy's head and turned the peck into a _kiss_. Jinta's tongue immediately came out and ran over his braces. He loved it when the teen did that and now it all made sense why Jinta seemed to be fascinated with his braces. The guy thought they were _cute_. Jinta pulled out of the kiss first and pressed his forehead to Di Roy's. They were nose to nose and eye to eye.

"Ya wanna know why I love you, Di?"

He nodded.

"'Cuz yer not afraid ta be yerself. But more importantly, yer not afraid to be yerself _around me_. I know the _real_ Di Roy Rinker and it makes me feel like everything's alright in my world."

Di Roy frowned, something hot and gooey shaking loose in his insides. It was the first time someone spoke to him like he mattered, and it made his nose and the backs of his eyes sting ominously. He averted his gaze, trying to hold his emotions at bay as he gnawed on his bottom lip, but Jinta carefully took hold of his chin and tenderly made him hold eye contact.

"It's not bad ta feel like that," he murmured.

Di Roy didn't know what else to do other than sit up, wrap his arms around Jinta's torso and bury his face in the boy's lean chest. It was the only way he could successfully hide his tears.

Jinta ran a hand through Di Roy's hair. "I know," he said softly.

XOXOXO

"Where is he now?"

"East 18th and Crenshaw."

"Ah."

He leaned back on the plush, black leather couch and crossed his left ankle over his right knee. He set a freshly imported Cuban cigar into the crystal ashtray beside him before steepling his fingers in front of his face.

"Shall I go get him?"

He shook his head and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "No. Let him think we have no knowledge of his doings; it's better that way."

The green-eyed man nodded and blended in with the wall once more as Sosuke Aizen reached for the stereo remote on the low end table to his left. He raised the volume on the classical music drifting from the speakers, then lifted his cigar to his lips, leisurely pulling the smoke into his mouth. He didn't inhale, he just enjoyed the flavor of the smoke before blowing it into the air. He didn't appreciate his underling defying him in such a way. Ginjou had been doing things his own way for quite some time. It stood to reason that the dark-haired man thought his actions went unnoticed, but Aizen would hardly be able to call himself a leader if he wasn't aware of what every last one of his workers was up to.

If only Ginjou had thought to actually come to Aizen with his plans for revenge against the blue-haired Crip enforcer, the situation may have gone differently. However, with Ginjou keeping his plans to himself, it made it extremely difficult to overlook. Besides, Aizen had his own plans for the boy that had grown into such a dangerous man. Since G was the only man that could successfully identify himself and Ulquiorra from a time in their past that he was now quite ashamed of, Aizen would have to take steps to keep G from putting his livelihood in danger. He was comfortable with his position and he enjoyed the easy wealth it brought along with it. Meaning, he wasn't too keen on giving that up just yet, and _especially_ not because of a brat with a grudge.

Aizen looked at Ulquiorra and sighed. Perhaps it _was_ time to take things to the next level.

XOXOXO

"Why ya keep lookin' outta the window like that?"

Grimmjow turned away from his position in front of Ichigo's bedroom window and gave the guy a blank stare. For the past half hour, Ichigo had been firing question after question at him like a curious toddler, and it was starting to not only irk him, but made him want to shut the man up in his own special way. A grin born of pure misconduct slid over his face at the thought, making Ichigo give him wide eyes. The orange-haired man was seated on his bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of stark white boxers and a pair of socks. The color made his tan and bright hair stand out with a vengeance, and in turn made Grimmjow want him more. Made him want to take Ichigo back to the beginning of their acquaintance. However, there were issues that needed to be dealt with before he made Ichigo realize exactly why he shouldn't stray.

"Jus' lookin' at somethin'," he grunted in response to the question.

"Yeah, well, you're makin' me nervous."

Grimmjow couldn't hold in the chuckle that escaped him at Ichigo's statement. He'd been making the guy nervous with much more than looking out the window every few minutes, that was for sure. Since their "reunion" at the diner, Ichigo had been shooting him furtive looks that practically _screamed_ fear and uncertainty, like he was just waiting for Grimmjow to snap or something. The time for snapping had come and gone, though, so Ichigo really had nothing to worry about.

"What's funny?"

Grimmjow crossed the room in a few steps and stood right in front of Ichigo, causing the other man to crane his neck and look up at him. He grabbed the orange-haired man's shoulders and shook him gently, face serious.

"Stop askin' so many fuckin' questions, Ichigo. Drivin' me crazy."

"I can't drive ya somewhere ya already live, stuuupid," Ichigo said, keeping that infernally childish behavior going.

"Ya good?" Grimmjow asked, just to be sure there was nothing Ichigo was hiding from him; that behavior was too strange to overlook.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He studied the look on Ichigo's face and finally figured out why the other man was acting like an overgrown kid. He lowered himself to the bed and grinned, knowing the harmless smile would be perceived as predatory to Ichigo. When the orange-haired man shrank back and frowned, Grimmjow knew he was right.

"Happy, hm?" he asked quietly.

Ichigo opened his mouth – brow still pulled into its customary scowl – then snapped it shut. Maple brown eyes turned away and focused on something over Grimmjow's shoulder, while long fingers formed a mind of their own, twisting and shifting nervously.

"No," Ichigo grunted sullenly.

Grimmjow saw right through him.

"Liar."

The space between them gradually began disappearing, inch by inch. Grimmjow took hold of Ichigo's chin and tilted it up, his free hand going to the smaller man's hip. Ichigo stopped breathing it seemed as he watched Grimmjow with avid eyes. Grimmjow wanted to laugh aloud at the look on Ichigo's face, but was more interested in the tempting smell coming from him. He leaned forward, closing the tiny gap left between their faces, lips not even a centimeter away.

"Oh, yer busy, huh?"

Ichigo growled under his breath and Grimmjow used the time to make use of the laughter he'd been holding in. Shiro had crappy timing.

"Shiro, what the fuck!" Ichigo snarled, whirling around to face the bedroom door.

The albino young man stood in the doorway, face devilish and hand still on the knob. "Hey, lock yer door sometime."

"Fuck that! It's _my_ room, dumbass! If the door's closed, don' come in wit'out knockin'!"

"Whatever. I got somethin' important ta tell ya, anyway, so get yer panties outta yer ass fer a minute, OK?"

Grimmjow sat back against the headboard of the bed and put his feet up, making himself comfortable as he watched Ichigo and his twin brother bicker. It'd been a long time since he'd been able to witness it up close and personal. He threw his arms behind his head and silently thanked whoever was up there that the two weren't on opposite sides of the room. He hated the tennis match feeling.

"What'd you jus' say ta me?" Ichigo snapped, coming off his bed.

Shiro sucked his teeth and rolled his strange-looking eyes, pale hands going to slim hips. "King, we gotta go work this weekend. The old man just called."

"Ah, crap."

"Yeah. So that means no hanky panky 'less yer gonna get yer ass up in the mornin'."

Grimmjow frowned. Work? He didn't even know that Shiro and Ichigo had jobs. Honestly, it had never concerned him before, but hearing it now piqued his interest.

"What work?" he asked.

Ichigo and Shiro both looked his way with identically wide eyes. Like they'd forgotten he was even in the room to begin with.

"Um, well. We, uh..." Shiro's voice trailed off as he glanced at Ichigo, unsure.

Ichigo just shrugged. "We work for our dad two weekends out of the month in exchange for our...um...allowances, so to speak."

"So, what d'ya do?"

"Now who's askin' a buncha questions?" Ichigo muttered.

Grimmjow cracked a sideways smirk. "Me. Now answer."

"We work in the old man's office. Y'know, secretary work and shit like that," Ichigo said with a rub to the side of his straight nose.

"What's _he_ do?" Grimmjow continued.

"Uh, who?"

Grimmjow gave the orange-haired man a look that clearly implied how he felt about the pretending to be dumb act. Ichigo chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"He's a lawyer."

Face slack with shock, all Grimmjow could do was stare. Ichigo's father was a lawyer? Seriously? Was the guy even aware of the shit his two kids got into on a daily basis? Did he even know that Ichigo had been shot? There were so many things Grimmjow wanted to know, but didn't know where he should start.

The look on Ichigo's face gave him somewhere to begin, however.

"And?" he asked, calmly folding his hands over his stomach.

Ichigo chuckled again, this time looking over at Shiro as he did. Shiro's face was a bit paler than normal and that was worrisome. Grimmjow quirked a brow, no words needing to be said as he just stared Ichigo down.

"He's tryna be a judge," Shiro cut in before Ichigo could answer.

Grimmjow scowled, wondering what the hell was going on. There was no way their old man knew what they were up to. On top of that, how could he ever hope to pursue anything with the orange-haired man if his fucking _father_ was a _judge_?

"Ichigo-" he started.

"I know, I know," Ichigo interrupted, holding his hand up. "That's the reason we never told anyone what he does."

"Does Shinji know 'bout this?"

Shiro shook his head adamantly. Obviously not. Grimmjow sat up and considered both males. Shinji wouldn't like having something this big hidden from him, but it wasn't Grimmjow's place to clue him in. He rubbed his chin and shook his head. He didn't even know what to do with that knowledge himself, so he could only imagine Shinji's reaction to it.

"Ya gotta tell 'im," he grunted.

For the first time since Grimmjow had met the pale man, Shiro hung his head and actually appeared meek.

"I know. I jus' don' know _how_. He's gonna be all pissed, but it ain't like it's _my_ fault my old man's a lawyer."

"Ya wan' 'im ta find out from somebody else?" Grimmjow continued.

"No," Shiro mumbled, eyes still on the floor.

"Where is Blondie anyway?" Ichigo put in.

"He went ta get somethin'. I fergot what he said it was, though."

"Tell 'im when he gets back. What do ya tell him when we work anyway?"

"That I'm runnin' errands."

Grimmjow cracked up. _Errands, huh?_ Shinji had probably seen right through those lies. He wondered what Shin was waiting for, in that case. Was he being patient, hoping Shiro would tell him the truth sooner or later? That wasn't like the blond at all. Grimmjow grinned and alternated his gaze between Shiro and Ichigo, amused by their incredulous expressions. Shinji had really fallen for Ichigo's albino twin. _I can't talk, though_ , he thought as he focused solely on the orange-haired man lowering himself back to the foot of the bed.

Ichigo met his stare head-on, brown eyes darkening and turning into something hot and satiny. Even though he couldn't keep thoughts of Ichigo's betrayal out of his mind, he still wanted the man. Still wanted to have his way with him and keep him by his side for as long as he could. Was he a fool for feeling that way? Probably. More than likely. But he couldn't muster the energy needed to care. He was open like a textbook, but Ichigo didn't need to know that. Not yet, anyway. The younger man wasn't ready for what Grimmjow had in mind for them, which he intended to put in motion as soon as he talked to Starrk again. It would have to be soon, too. What he kept seeing from Ichigo's bedroom window was – while nothing he couldn't handle on his own – mildly disturbing. A hand over his sock-clad toes brought him out of his thoughts, making him turn his eyes to the fingers absently toying with them.

"So, I'll go. Don' ferget, King. We gotta be there at eight tomorrow mornin'."

"OK," Ichigo said softly, eyes distant.

Shiro left the room and Ichigo climbed to his feet, shuffling over and locking the door. Grimmjow watched him carefully. He had an idea what was on the other man's mind when he turned and faced him again, this time wearing a teasing smirk. As a matter of fact, Grimmjow knew exactly what Ichigo wanted.

"C'mere," he grunted.

Ichigo's smirk turned into a full-on smile as he slowly sauntered back to the bed and stood beside him. Grimmjow reached up and tugged on the waistband of those white boxers, an equally teasing smirk creeping over his features.

"Why ya lookin' at me like that?" Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo grew bold and nudged Grimmjow's right leg, indicating he wanted him to move over before straddling his waist and smiling some more. "'Cuz I can."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm."

Assaulted by Ichigo's warm and clean scent, Grimmjow followed his nose and nuzzled the hollow of the man's neck. He didn't think he'd ever be able to get enough of it. His hands roamed over the orange-haired man's bare back, enjoying the way the muscles tensed and relaxed. Ichigo sighed and let his head fall to the side, allowing Grimmjow more access. Which he did. He took full advantage of the exposed column with his lips and tongue, stifling the urge to smirk when Ichigo gave a low moan. He missed hearing the younger man make those kinds of noises; he didn't know just how much until Ichigo did it again and let his own hands slip down to the hem of Grimmjow's t-shirt. That rough, warm hand against his abdomen sent his head reeling. He really hadn't intended to have sex with Ichigo yet, but his body was screaming otherwise.

Ichigo backed away and brought his hands up to frame the sides of Grimmjow's face, brow pulled into a worried scowl. That made Grimmjow cock his head to the side and give him a curious look.

"Wussup?" he asked quietly.

Sable brown depths were averted as Ichigo bit his bottom lip hard enough to turn it red. It only lasted for a few seconds before those eyes were back on Grimmjow's face, filled with determination.

"I'm _sorry_ ," Ichigo stressed. "I didn't know. I thought you'd left. I thought-"

Grimmjow cut him off, hand covering the man's mouth. "Stop it. Yer jus' gonna piss me off."

He dropped his hand and watched Ichigo press his lips together. There was an extra shine to those deep brown eyes and Grimmjow didn't like it. As far as he was concerned, they'd _both_ fucked up. _But_ , they'd also paid the consequences for their actions. If this had been in the past, when Grimmjow didn't give a shit about anyone or anything, including whether he made it to see the next day, then Ichigo would have been in trouble. There wouldn't have been any hesitation in his arm when he'd shot the orange-haired man. However, that was then; this was now. He'd told himself that he was going to change. That he would try to meet the other man halfway in whatever it was they were starting. Just because he hadn't foreseen the immense mix-up that had occurred, it didn't mean he should change his mind. Especially since Ichigo's actions had been just that: an immense mix-up.

Those on the outside looking in would think he'd turned weak, but that wasn't true. He would never be weak; plus, he felt like he had a better grip on judging character these days. After all the thinking he'd done, he'd come to realize that being with someone who was _really_ in it for the long run wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, it could be a very good thing. One just had to know how to go about it. That didn't mean that Grimmjow knew that Ichigo was in it for the long run, but he had a feeling the orange-haired man was willing to stick around for at least a while.

With a slow smile, Grimmjow took hold of Ichigo's wrists and pulled him closer. When he brought their lips together, it was lazy. Languid. He wanted to imply with his kiss that he wasn't in a rush and that he didn't blame Ichigo for what had happened between them. Things would iron themselves out somehow. Ichigo sighed again and deepened the unhurried contact, warm and slick tongue coming out to tease Grimmjow's bottom lip.

 _Yeah, this is fine_ , Grimmjow thought as he wrapped his arms around Ichigo's waist. _This is just fine_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

A cloud of thick gray smoke curled up towards the roof of the car before slowly drifting out of the cracked window. Dark eyes were hooded and full lips were pulled into a sarcastic sneer. "Drop the World" floated from the speakers as Ginjou reclined against the leather seat of his Chevy. Limbs twitching from his high, he closed his eyes briefly and enjoyed the sensation. He was starting to get a little hungry, but now wasn't the time to think of food. He stared up the street at the apartment he'd gotten used to frequenting and chuckled under his breath. So Pretty Boy thought it was going to be easy to just get rid of him? Not so much. He'd teach him. He'd teach that naïve little orange-haired brat not to play with fire; in the end, one always got burned.

The light on the porch of Pretty Boy's house was lit, shining happily. Basically the same way the younger man that lived inside had been behaving as of late. It was odd, though. Ginjou knew that G was aware of his former fling with Pretty Boy, but the blue-haired Crip didn't seem to be bothered by it. In fact, it seemed like he was being lazy. He'd been following the two men for about a week now, waiting for G to approach him, but the man hadn't. He'd been too engrossed in getting between the sheets with the younger orange-haired man. That was cool too. It would make it easier to catch the enforcer slipping. Easier to get rid of him. Ginjou took another pull from the blunt of Kush he was smoking and blew it out slowly. He liked imagining the blue-haired man on his knees, begging for his life as he held a gun to his head. Make him feel what his brother had felt in _his_ last moments. G was a fool for thinking that he could get away with just killing two people important to him. Was the guy crazy? He had to be. G was sorely underestimating him, but that was fine as well. He'd learn. And soon, if Ginjou had anything to do about it. He had plans for the blue-haired Crip and his little girlfriend. Pretty Boy was in for one hell of a wake-up call.

The Blood glanced through the windshield and frowned. Wasn't that Pretty Boy's window? Why did the curtain keep moving? Shifting in place, he set the blunt in the ashtray and leaned forward, carefully gripping the steering wheel as he peered through slanted eyes. He could have sworn he'd just seen the curtain moving, but there was nothing there now except the glow of the bedroom light. Maybe he was just tripping. He sat back in the seat again, prepared to get comfortable and wait for G to come out, when his cell rang noisily, disturbing the peace. He snatched it out of his hoodie pocket and glared at the readout.

Unknown?

He normally didn't answer calls from an unknown number, which had resulted in his lack of receiving them in the first place. Curiosity got the best of him, however.

"Yo," he growled into the device.

A brief pause before a smooth baritone traveled over the line. "Ah, Ginjou. How have you been?"

Ice froze his insides as he stared ahead distantly. His gut quivered and his heart began to race after stopping for a few beats. His tongue had gone useless, sitting in his mouth heavily and refusing to function, making it difficult to answer the man on the other end of the phone call.

"Ginjou?"

Sweat gathered across his brow and upper lip as he swallowed forcefully. If he didn't say something, it would only make things worse. There was only one reason this man was contacting him via telephone, and it was far from a good one.

"Y-yes?" he finally replied, although his voice cracked mercilessly.

"Hmm, are you busy?"

"N-no, Sir. Is there something you need?"

"Actually, yes, there is. Would you be so kind as to meet me at headquarters?"

Ginjou swallowed again, throat closing up and sticking together. There was nothing for it, then. He _had_ to go now, especially since it was a personal request.

"U-uh, yes. When?"

"Now, preferably."

"Yes, Sir."

Ginjou dropped his phone onto his lap once the call was ended. All he could do was stare out of the windshield and gnaw at his bottom lip like a frightened child. In all honesty, he _was_ frightened. _Terrified_ , actually. No one survived an intimate encounter with the boss man. Definitely not after a personal request. However, he was lucky. Aizen hadn't seen fit to send his little hound after him, which was a step below insulting. Did he think it wasn't worth it to send that little green-eyed ass-licker after him? Like he was easy to deal with? Impossible. Aizen knew Ginjou's reputation, knew that he was dangerous, so why would he look down on him like that?

 _So, that's how it is_ , he inwardly mused.

Aizen would regret looking down on him. Ginjou wasn't one to be trifled with and he was hell bent on proving it. He peeled away from the curb after starting his Chevy and rocketed towards his stash spot. He needed a few more weapons and a bit more cash before he could put his plan into motion. However, he neglected to spot the black BMW pulling out behind him.

XOXOXO

"He's right there."

"I see him, dumbass. Fall back."

Tousen sucked his teeth and adjusted the tooth pick hanging from the corner of his mouth. He stared at his target, mind whirling, heart skipping, but anticipating the results. If he got rid of this guy, things would start coming together perfectly. He'd be promoted and the money would really start rolling in. After that, he would only have one target left, but he could work on that one later.

The male he was after was posted up against a street pole. _Too easy_ , he thought as he reached for the Beretta resting at the small of his back. _Too fuckin' easy_.

XOXOXO

Shiro paced his room, biting his nails as he waited for Shinji to come back from the store. He'd gone to work with King over the weekend as usual, but instead of telling his boyfriend like King and Grimmjow had suggested, he'd given the blond man another excuse. When it had all come down to the wire, he'd panicked and chickened out, which wasn't like him. Not like him at all. However, he couldn't stand to see Shinji wearing another angry expression towards him. It made his stomach hurt and his heart take a trip to his ankles: feelings he'd rather _not_ endure. He'd felt so bad about not telling Shinji about his job and his father, though, he'd decided to tell him tonight. It wouldn't help matters if he just kept lying to the guy.

He stopped pacing when the door opened and Shinji sauntered inside, wide grin on his face. When he spotted Shiro, he paused and stared, grin gradually disappearing.

"Wha's wrong witchu?" he snapped, shutting the door.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout?"

"Cut the shit," Shinji said, stalking up to him and overwhelming him with sheer presence alone. "Talk."

Shiro smiled in spite of himself. He kind of liked when the blond went all aggressive and bossy that way. He edged closer, then remembered what he had to tell the man and pulled up short. How would Shinji react to his news? Would he be pissed that he'd hid it for so long? Or would he just laugh it off? Discomfort took hold of him again as he searched those golden brown eyes. Even though Shinji's bang covered his eyebrows, Shiro could imagine one of them lifted high as he stared right back, waiting for a response to his demand. The albino had been rehearsing his lines in his head like he was preparing for a play, but now that he had his boyfriend right in front of him, the words wouldn't come together the way he'd practiced.

"Ya know how I'm always tellin' ya 'bout my errands some weekends?" he blurted.

He'd never been that much of a careful thinker anyway. Shinji's eyes narrowed a fraction before he nodded, lips forming a thin line. If that wasn't scary enough, the blond's body moved a tad closer, closing off any chance of hope or escape. Shiro sighed, but forged forward. Hell, he'd come this far, so he couldn't turn back now. Shinji would never let him get away with that.

"I don' run errands. I got a job," he continued, proud as hell that his voice was strong.

An eyebrow arch was all he received for his efforts.

"Yer not mad?"

Shinji shook his head and chuckled as he stepped past him. "'Bout time ya said suntin'."

Floored, all he could do was stare at the blond taking a seat on his bed. Shinji had known, then? Well, why hadn't the asshole said anything instead of forcing Shiro to come up with excuse after tired excuse? Shinji glanced up at him as if he could read his mind, that wide grin back in full force.

"What? Ya really think I'm stupid er suntin'?" Shiro opened his mouth to protest, but Shinji went on. "I gotta be some kinda fool not ta know my dude's lyin' ta me. Yer ass is jus' lucky I trust ya."

The words hung ominously in the atmosphere, like a stirring hornet's nest. Shiro just stared, automatically feeling bad for not telling Shinji the whole truth. His expression must have screamed his regret because Shinji's eyes narrowed again, lips pursing.

"There's more, ain't there?"

"Yeah, but it ain't like it's a big deal-"

He couldn't even finish his statement before the blond was off the bed and right in front of him again. This time Shinji didn't hold back, large hand going around his throat as he backed the albino into the bedroom door. His lips were peeled back, revealing a snarl so intense, he could have been an animal. His eyes were wild and filled with something Shiro had never seen turned in his direction before. He was almost afraid to move, until he realized that Shinji was growling something, normally teasing tenor close to a rumbling baritone.

"If yer cheatin' on me, Shiro, so help me-"

"What?" Shiro interrupted incredulously. "Yer shittin' me, right? 'Cuz ya can't possibly be serious."

"Do I look like I'm playin' witchu?"

He stood mannequin still as he studied his boyfriend's face. There was anger, of course, but there was also a bit of vulnerability hidden in those honey-brown depths. Shiro had to give himself a moment to walk in Shinji's shoes. If he were on the other end of this conversation, he would probably think the same thing, what with all the hesitating he'd been doing. It was no wonder the blond had jumped to conclusions.

"OK, wait. Back up a minute. I ain't cheatin' on ya."

The wildness in Shinji's eyes didn't diminish and neither did the anger. His hand remained locked around Shiro's throat, making it incredibly hard to breathe.

"Ya wanna stop now? I can' breathe!"

He slammed his point home when he tried to swallow and the saliva got caught in the space between Shinji's fingers. And just as suddenly as they'd arrived, they were gone, Shinji holding his hand as if it were injured and back facing Shiro.

"Shiro, ya gotta clue me in. I'm lost," he said, back still turned.

Shiro rubbed his sore neck, but stepped towards his obviously distressed boyfriend. "I was jus' gonna tell ya that I work wit' my dad. He's a lawyer. Actually, he wants ta be a judge. Tha's all. It ain't as serious as me cheatin' on ya. I wouldn' do that."

Silence stretched far enough for beings on Pluto to hear it. Nothing and no one moved for about ten long seconds. Then, Shinji killed the quiet brutally by cackling loudly. Shiro frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, too stunned to show how disturbed he was with his boyfriend's maniacal laughter. What the hell was going on now? Shinji slowly pivoted around and gave the albino an amused stare, eyes twinkling as he continued to shake with mirth.

"Yer dad's a _what_?" he choked.

"Er...a lawyer?"

"An' he wants ta be a _what_?"

Shiro missed the joke, but answered anyway. "A judge," he grumbled.

Shinji cracked up...again.

"What the hell, stupid!" Shiro roared, tired of being kept in the dark.

He'd expected the blond to be pissed, or at the very least uncomfortable with his revelation. Not fucking laughing like he was high as a kite. Unfortunately, the laughter merely escalated at his exasperated outburst. Why did he have such a retard for a boyfriend?

XOXOXO

Di Roy glanced down at his white G-Shock watch and scowled. What the hell was taking Jinta so long to meet him on the block? The red head had never been late before. Di Roy was trying to be gone before G made it there. Not that he was avoiding the man, but...OK, he was. He just didn't know how to start that conversation. It was one thing knowing that G was gay and didn't give a fuck who else knew about it, but _he'd_ only ever been with girls. It was different. G would probably think he was a poser, going out of his way to be just like him and Di Roy didn't want that. As much as he admired the blue-haired man, it would kill him to have the guy look at him as a nuisance.

He shuffled his feet and leaned against a street pole, his head starting to throb. He was hungry and he wanted to get laid, both things depending on his red-haired boyfriend. It felt so funny thinking and saying that word in connection with himself; he still wasn't used to the whole thing. He shifted his radio in his arm and raised the volume, Yelawolf and Kid Rock's "Let's Roll" blasting from the speakers. He started nodding his head to the beat, unaware that he had company.

"Yo."

He jumped so hard, he almost dropped his radio. He whirled around to face his visitor, eyes wide as he lowered the volume. "Y-yo, G. Wussup?"

"Not much. Where ya been?"

The blue-haired gangster's voice was the same rumbling baritone, but it was quiet. Like he was carefully considering each word he said. It made Di Roy even more nervous than he already was. What was G thinking and why was he looking at him like that?

"I-I been around. Wha' 'boutchu?"

"Oh, I been around."

His breath hitched as he looked away. That meant G knew something. When the man got that look in his cold blue eyes and his voice became that low, throaty growl, there was danger ahead. Di Roy didn't know where to go from here, though. He was frozen in place like a statue, heart hammering and chest constricting. Was G mad at him? He was definitely using the " mad" voice. G never yelled (well, Di Roy had never seen him yell) when he got angry. He just talked very quietly before exploding with raw violence. Scary ass shit. He never wanted to be on the wrong side of the man standing next to him, which led him to keep his mouth shut. He wouldn't invite the monster into his house by provoking the guy with mindless chatter or asking dumb questions.

Didn't work, though.

"Yo, Di. Ya got somethin' ta tell me?"

G's voice was still quiet and hell, when Di Roy peered at him from the corner of his eye, he could see that the man wasn't even _looking_ at him. His blue eyes were focused on the other side of the street as if he were giving Di Roy some privacy. A chance to gather himself, so to speak. He swallowed a couple of times, shook his head, then sighed. G didn't even move, but Di Roy _did_ notice those piercing eyes slide in his direction briefly. It was like being pinned in place when G's eyes locked onto you, snatching all the air from your lungs along with making you feel like you were about to piss yourself. The man was so terrifying and he didn't even know it. Or maybe he just didn't _show_ that he knew it. Either way, his aura was potent stuff.

"Yeah."

G gave him his full attention this time. "What is it?"

How should he say this? 'Yo, G, I'm gay an' fuckin' my best friend.' No. Jinta would kill him.

"Ya know that red head I'm always wit'?" he asked instead, lowering his head and avoiding eye contact with the other man.

"Uh-huh."

"Um, well...I mean...'cuz he said...no, wait-"

"Bahahaha!"

Di Roy was startled into silence as he watched the stony blue-haired man erupt into laughter, deep voice echoing in the street. He'd seen G laugh all of two times and those had been cheap imitations of laughter at that. The guy had only chuckled or grinned and gave that scary ass shark grin of his. Never this. Never unbridled mirth that showed all of his teeth in genuine hilarity. It was like watching the sun spin and form a face just to say hi. No way.

"What the hell is that?" G went on, tears coming to his eyes. "Since when didja become a tongue-tied idiot?"

"Hey!" he snapped defensively. "I'm tryna be serious here!"

"But yer not makin' sense."

"I-I...I know that! I jus' don' know how ta say it, alright?"

"Look, Di, I ain't as dumb as ya think. I know ya been messing 'round wit' that kid; I was jus' waitin' fer _you_ ta tell me. 'Sides, I didn' wanna jump ta conclusions, but it was kinda obvious after I saw ya kissin' 'im in his car couple days ago. 'Less tha's jus' how kids say hi these days."

"Sarcastic ass," Di Roy grumbled as the realization that he hadn't been as smooth as he'd thought hit home. "Why didncha say nothin'?"

"Was I s'posed to?"

"S-so...you know. Yer not, um, disgusted, er anythin'?"

"Ya do realize I fuck guys, right?"

Di Roy almost swallowed his tongue. He hadn't been expecting G to be quite _that_ blunt, but there it was. He'd known, of course, but hearing it from the man himself was like hearing one of the apostles quote the Bible.

"Yeah, I know that."

"So, why the fuck would I care that yer doin' the same?"

"I jus' didn' wantcha ta think I was copyin' ya. I really love-"

He stopped abruptly. G didn't believe in love, so that topic was completely taboo. He shifted his radio, trying to come up with a change of topic, when G chuckled. The noise shocked him again and made him glance over at the blue-haired man.

"Tha's cool, too."

What...the hell?

"G, you OK, man?" he asked timidly.

G looked over at him and scoffed, large arm wrapping around his neck and bringing him in for a good-natured hair ruffle. Di Roy couldn't move. G was high on something _other_ than weed. _I got it_ , he inwardly cried. _G's drunk!_ He sniffed in the man's direction once he was freed from the headlock, but couldn't smell any alcohol. Well, there went that idea. So, what then? This man standing here laughing and talking with him certainly wasn't the G he was accustomed to.

"Wha's that s'posed ta mean?" G asked, smiling, his canines making the innocent action seem predatory.

"I-I don' know."

He plead the fifth. If G didn't know, then neither did he.

Another chuckle was his response before things went quiet again, leaving Di Roy to stew in his thoughts. G's reaction had been far from what he'd expected, but it was relieving. He didn't have to worry about hiding his relationship with Jinta anymore – not that he'd been all that successful in the first place. He should have known he would be unable to keep things from the sharp-sensed G. Smiling, he turned to check the street and was happy to see Jinta pulling into a parking space a few feet down. He looked at G, ready to introduce the two, and was stunned to see the man's face a stony mask. He was staring down the street past Jinta's car, so Di Roy swung his head around to see what the man was looking at. He didn't see anything except a hunter-green Infiniti flying towards them. That was nothing new, though. Cars always sped down this street, so why was G looking like that?

The car skidded around Jinta's, forcing the red head to slam his door shut in order to avoid having it taken off. Di Roy scowled and opened his mouth to yell at the idiot in the Infiniti, when the words died in his throat. He recognized both pricks in the car, from the dark-haired one hanging out of the passenger window, to the hulking one driving. From there, everything seemed to go in slow motion. G yelled and tried to push Di Roy out of the way, while Jinta remained frozen in his own car, eyes wide and watching in horror. The next thing Di Roy knew, he felt like his chest had been slammed into by a speeding truck, no brakes. He only remembered being propelled to the ground before steel gray eyes and royal blue eyes were hovering over him, one pair filled with tears, the other with anger.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stood in the middle of the street trying unsuccessfully to calm down. He watched the green Infiniti coast away and around a corner before rushing over to Di Roy, who was spread out on the ground near the curb, white hoodie almost covered with bright red blood. That sneaky motherfucker, Tousen. He'd changed his car, making it impossible to recognize him before it was too late. Grimmjow growled under his breath as he stooped over the twitching teen he'd secretly cared for like a younger sibling. The red-haired boy was next to him, hands tugging on Di Roy's hoodie. The most tragic thing had to have been watching the pale-haired teen fly back, his radio falling to the ground and breaking apart.

"Di? Di! What the fuck," the red head snarled, angry even though tears crept down the sides of his face.

Glasses hung on the end of his nose, but he didn't seem to care that they were on the verge of falling off. He cradled Di Roy's head in his arms and stared, body shaking uncontrollably. Grimmjow was too angry to do anything other than watch as Di Roy turned pale as his hair, eyes wide and mouth open, desperate gasping sounds breaking his heart. There'd been three shots and all of them had hit their target too accurately to do more than accept the inevitable. Grimmjow knelt beside Di Roy, inwardly cursing the entire time as he took the boy's cold hand in his.

"I'm sorry, Di," was all he could say.

The red head had gone eerily silent, but when Grimmjow looked over at him, he saw why. The boy's head was bent low next to Di Roy's ear as if he were whispering something. Grimmjow felt like he was intruding, so he backed away and let the boy have his time with his lover. It was sad. If what Di had been telling him was true, then they'd only started getting to know one another intimately. It was a crime to take a kid's life and Grimmjow was going to make Tousen see that. He stood next to his truck and gripped his cell phone in one tight fist, heart wrenching when he heard a loud wail and then unchecked sobbing. It had to be over by now. He gritted his teeth and climbed into his Escalade, turned the engine over and sped away. He hated leaving like that, but it had to be done. He couldn't waste time anymore. Tousen and Ginjou had grown balls too big for their britches and needed a lesson from the Reaper. Class was officially in session.

No one fucked with Grimmjow and lived to talk about it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

He skidded to a stop in front of the large brick house and hopped out of his truck, not surprised to see Starrk standing on the stoop. He was surprised to see the brunet wearing a navy blue hoodie, the hood thrown over his head. Dark jeans made him blend in with the night and the look on his normally easy-going face spoke of the solemn mood. As he approached the stairs of the stoop, Starrk met him halfway, his hand going under the hem of the large hoodie he wore. The situation was made crystal clear when the man pulled out a nine millimeter, making sure it was loaded before putting it where it came from.

"Ready?" he asked.

Starrk nodded and stalked towards the truck. Grimmjow had never seen his family leader that serious, but then again, the predicament had escalated. There was no time to sit back and talk about things anymore. With Tousen coming out of pocket and Ginjou trailing him, he couldn't relax. In fact, he figured it was time they had a taste of why his reputation preceded him.

They hopped inside the dark interior of his truck, Grimmjow immediately screeching away from the curb. Normally, he bumped his music loud enough to make the pavement tremble, but now it was low, the bass rumbling nothing but the seats. He glanced over at Starrk and found the man eerily silent as he stared through the windshield. He supposed the somber mood was fitting. Grimmjow still couldn't believe the teen he'd considered his younger brother was dead. All because Tousen held a grudge. He wouldn't let his mind wander down the familiar road of guilt, even though Di Roy's death was essentially _his_ fault. Thinking like that was hazardous at the moment. He _would_ let his anger at the kid's death fuel what was about to go down, though. There was no way in hell he would sit back and let that shit slide.

Growling, he whipped around a corner and entered taboo territory. There were Bloods hanging on the street, some sitting on house porches and even more standing near cars, having personal little parties. Pissed at the leisure behavior, Grimmjow stomped on the brakes and gripped the steering wheel, willing his heart to calm down and his temples to stop throbbing. The sound of a second set of brakes squealing to a stop made him check the rear view mirror with a frown.

What the hell?

A black, Honda CRV idled behind him, windows tinted too dark for him to be able to see the person – or people – inside. There was no music coming from the SUV either, but that didn't mean anything. Grimmjow didn't recognize the vehicle and it made him inwardly wary. He looked over at Starrk to see if he had an idea of who was behind them, when he was caught completely off guard. The brunet wore a small smirk as he too checked the rear view mirror. His storm gray eyes slid over in his direction, alive with amusement and mischief.

"Ready?" he asked, mirroring Grimmjow's earlier words.

The blue-haired man gave a confused scowl as he reached for his Sig. He didn't have the slightest clue what was going on, but figured if Starrk wasn't worried about the SUV behind them, then he wouldn't either. Just as he reached to power down the windows, automatic gunfire broke out. He almost ducked his head, when he noticed the sound was coming from the CRV.

"Gimme the word, Starrk," he grunted, eyes frantic as he watched what looked like fireworks coming from the CRV.

Starrk chuckled and lowered his own window, nine millimeter appearing out of thin air as he wrapped the navy-blue bandana that had been hidden in his hoodie pocket around the handle of it. The brunet immediately started shooting, the sounds sharp and precise.

"I really gotta give you the word, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow grinned, anger morphing into blood-lust and vengeance as he withdrew his own weapon. Instead of remaining in his seat, he hopped out of the truck and took cover behind the driver's side door and let his gun talk. He kept one eye on the CRV as he let off on the Bloods lounging near their cars and on porches. Anyone he recognized from the rival gang was automatically gunned down. It was like a war, shouting and guns firing interrupting the recently festive atmosphere.

The plan was to get the Bloods riled up, while getting rid of most of them. Grimmjow didn't care about any of that; he was mainly concerned with drawing forth the man in charge. Not to mention, getting rid of the two losers that thought it was smart to fuck with him. Tousen and Ginjou had another thing coming. He wouldn't go as easy as shooting the idiots in the street.

"Grimmjow, you good?" Starrk called over all the mayhem.

Was he good? He was better than good.

Instead of answering his family leader, he just kept firing. Out of his peripheral, he caught a glimpse of one of the occupants of the CRV and had to keep himself from freezing in shock. Blond hair cut into a bob and a wide smirk came into view. The rear left passenger door of the SUV opened and Grimmjow shook his head in amusement as he watched another of his family members hop onto the blacktop. Frighteningly tall, with long, inky hair and a navy-blue bandana covering his left eye, Nnoitra Jiruga clutched the handle of of a stuttering Uzi. His visible eye was wild and manic laughter rose over the cacophony of yelling, scrambling and gun shots.

Another truck came careening around the corner, stopping right in front of Grimmjow's Escalade, blocking any route of escape. That made the blue-haired man pause and frown. Had the Bloods called for reinforcements? If so, then this would quickly get ugly. The new vehicle, a black Acura MRX, also sported dark tints, making the occupants invisible. That didn't matter, however, because just as suddenly as the truck came to a stop, the doors flew open, spilling men into the street. Grimmjow absently ducked when a bullet breezed past his head. He couldn't be careless here, but his curiosity had him in its clutches. After letting off another slew of shots in the direction the bullet had come from, he glanced back at the MRX and gave a sideways smirk at what he saw. Ishida, dressed from head to toe in navy blue, gripped a sawed-off, pistol-grip shot gun, while Szayel ducked on the opposite side of the truck, blending perfectly with a black coverall. In his slender hand was a gleaming, chrome Desert Eagle. The noise from that thing was enough to shatter ear drums, never mind the kick causing the slim man's arm to jerk with each shot.

The street resembled a war zone for real now, men dropping left and right, while others hid behind cars and fired back. Then, there were the men that hadn't been lucky enough to find cover. They lay strewn about like discarded napkins, bodies twisted into awkward positions. Grimmjow grinned and offered his own addition to the symphony of murder and bedlam, Sig jumping in his hand happily. A definitive boom made Grimmjow whip his head around and give his attention to the origin of the noise. Ishida stood with a huge grin on his angular face, dark hair falling into his equally dark-blue eyes. The recipient of the shot Ishida had let go crumpled to the ground, a gaping hole where his abdomen used to be and blood everywhere.

It was madness, but the carnage made Grimmjow feel good. Somehow justified the anger and frustration he felt over Di Roy's death. His grip on the handle of his Sig tightened as he gritted his teeth and snarled. The teen had been so young and didn't deserve to be gunned down like a dog in the street. Every last one of these bastards would feel the brunt of Grimmjow's ferocious mood.

He'd planned to keep shooting until all the assholes lay in pools of blood, but the sound of screaming sirens made everyone pause, like someone had blown a time-out whistle. That was the sign to retreat for now. None of them wanted any sauce with officers of the law because nine times out of ten, there would be one hard-ass that wanted a promotion – no matter how much drug money he accepted on the side to look the other way – and would cause problems for them.

"Let's hustle!" Starrk shouted before climbing back into Grimmjow's truck.

Everyone did the same, clambering back into the vehicles they'd hopped out of before spinning off with loud peels of burning rubber. As Grimmjow hugged the corner, he glanced in the rear view mirror and smiled at the scene left behind. He felt a tiny bit better knowing that a lot of his enemies were lying face down, no longer breathing, but he wouldn't be completely satisfied until he'd gotten his hands on Ginjou and definitely Tousen. He turned to Starrk, eyes triumphant, but froze when he saw a dark stain blending with the navy-blue of his family leader's hoodie.

"Yo," he grunted.

Starrk faced him with a grim smile. "I'm good. Just got grazed on the arm."

"Ya sure?"

"Mhm, pretty sure. Wanna check yourself, Doctor?"

Grimmjow managed a tight smile, but was still concerned. Starrk was like a father figure to him; he wouldn't dare see death at the man's door. Unacceptable. Once they'd reached a good distance away from the scene of the crime, he pulled over and hopped out of the truck, expression set and determined. He marched over to the passenger side and yanked open the door, the overhead light illuminating the interior of the vehicle.

"Yeah, I do wanna see, actually."

"Ha! You don't trust me?" Starrk asked. His tone was teasing, but his gray eyes were hard.

"Ya know that ain't got shit ta do wit' it. Lemme see yer arm."

"Fine. I'm setting Lily on you when this is over."

Grimmjow had a moment where he felt nothing but trepidation and alarm. That was a loaded threat if he ever heard one. Starrk's teenaged daughter was enough to give anyone a case of severe heartburn and migraines. He looked past it and stood with his arms folded across his chest as he waited for the brunet to reveal his wound. Starrk winced and slowly lifted the edge of his hoodie, but before he could get the material any further, his arm dropped to his side.

"I can't move this arm," he said carefully.

"That makes sense if ya got shot there. I'll hel-"

"No. Listen. You've been my left-hand man since you joined the family. I love you like a son, like a brother. I need you to take care of things now."

Grimmjow's eyes went wide as he stared at his family leader. What the fuck was the man saying? Why was he talking like that?

"Stop talkin' like that," he snapped, heart rate increasing dramatically. He reached forward and grabbed the hem of Starrk's hoodie, stomach in an uproar. He lifted none too gently and gave a frustrated curse when he saw the bullet wound under Starrk's ribs. He hung his head, refusing to let his emotions get the best of him here and now. "We gotta get ya some help," he mumbled.

"Heh," Starrk chuckled. "I got as much help as I needed. I'm good now. It's enough knowing I went out in battle with my family."

"Stop fuckin' talkin' like that!"

"Man up, soldier!" Starrk's voice cut through the silence. "I taught you better than this."

Grimmjow fought the tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he straightened and stood at attention before the man that had basically raised him. Gave him a chance to survive when no one else cared enough to do so. He scowled, but remained silent, duty coming before dishonor.

"Look, Lily's with her uncle in Atlanta, so just check in on her every now and then. There shouldn't be any problems down there, but then again, you never know, right?"

Grimmjow couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even think. Was this shit really happening? How many people did he have to lose before things came to an end? He swallowed harshly and stared at the brunet seated before him. Starrk's jaw twitched as he lifted his left hand and stretched it towards him. The way the man's hand was postured, it was obvious he was expecting Grimmjow to perform their family's handshake. Blue eyes locked on the strong looking hand for a long minute before Grimmjow reached and clasped it tightly. He did the necessary movements, but when it was time to let the man's hand go, he deviated from his duty and lifted it to his chest, holding it there as they held eye contact. Starrk showed a brief moment of surprise, then slowly nodded, gray eyes hooded and lids drooping with each labored breath he took.

Grimmjow couldn't breathe himself, his chest aching as he watched another loved one slip right through his fingers. When Starrk's eyes slid shut, he rested his head against the opened passenger door and bared his teeth in a silent snarl. He really wanted to howl and let his emotions rage freely. He wanted to kill someone, wanted to shoot until his trigger finger cramped, but another feeling overwhelmed his anger. His heart hurt. It seemed like no matter how hard he made himself, no matter how cold and distant, there were still a few that managed to get next to him. Managed to make him care. Then, they died. Was it even meant for him to have a loved one? It seemed like he was cursed. Anyone that he cared for were either killed or left him. His thoughts slowly trudged towards Ichigo. The image of the orange-haired man made him involuntarily gasp for air, like he was suddenly drowning. Would he be able to handle it if something happened to Ichigo? With the way his stomach rolled and his heart seemed to clench, that was a big, fat no.

But...Starrk had left him with a huge responsibility. He couldn't just turn his back on the man. He glanced at the unmoving brunet and pressed his lips together. There was only one thing he could think of, and even though it would hurt like hell, he would have to do it. He stepped away from his truck and pulled his cell from his pocket, resigned and determined. The rest of the family had to know what happened. After removing his fitted and running an agitated hand through his hair, he dialed his best friend's number.

XOXOXO

Ginjou parked crookedly across the street from the abandoned house he used as a stash spot. He hurriedly jumped out of his Chevy and jogged to the side alley, not bothering to look around. No one came around this part of town because most of the houses were condemned and just waiting to be demolished. Once he reached the back, he took the stairs leading to the stoop and slipped into the house. His safe was located in the kitchen, an old refrigerator that he kept pad-locked. He pulled the key from his pocket and undid the heavy piece of metal attached to a thick length of chain. He swung open the door and reached inside, first grabbing a few stacks of cash, then going for the two Berettas on the bottom shelf. Before he could get his hands on them, the floor creaked, alerting him to another presence. He whirled around, eyes wide as he searched for the culprit. What he saw made his breath choke to a stop.

"Did we interrupt you?"

He couldn't find his voice to save his life. His heart shuddered as did his hands. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not when he was so unprepared. He was caught completely off guard.

"I...I," he stuttered.

Aizen coolly arched a brow, hands behind his back as he steadily watched Ginjou. What bothered Ginjou the most, however, wasn't his leader's presence; it was the petite, dark-haired man standing beside the man, pointing a gun in Ginjou's direction. It was aimed accurately at his chest, so one false move and he would be shot without hesitation. What to do? What the fuck to do?

"Why don't we get around the formalities? Why didn't you come to me with your plans for our enemies?"

He still couldn't speak. He was paralyzed with fear, rooted to the spot, too afraid to do anything other than stare and try not to sweat.

"You were very careless. I dislike carelessness. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Aizen continued, smooth baritone slicing through the silence like a butcher knife.

"Sir, I-"

"You were also extremely sloppy. Did you really think no one would find out?"

"I don't wha-"

Before the words could fully leave his mouth, a sharp crack echoed and a quick flash of light blinked from the muzzle of the dark-haired man's gun. He jerked and a severe stinging erupted at his right knee. He crumpled to the floor and grabbed the bleeding body part, a loud cry leaving him before he could stifle it. He couldn't even think past the pain, which left him wide open for another attack.

"I won't tolerate your defiance. That's not how our group operates, Ginjou." With that, Aizen turned to the shorter man at his side and nodded, obviously giving him the signal to go ahead and finish the job. "I'll be in the car."

Ginjou watched in stunned horror as Aizen exited the room, leaving him alone with his right-hand man, Ulquiorra. Green eyes pierced him like a sword as the guy edged closer, movements so silent, they gave Ginjou chills. He'd known that Aizen would kill him, or at least have him killed, but he hadn't expected to be unable to defend himself. He hadn't expected being ambushed at his stash house.

"I apologize for this," Ulquiorra said, voice a deep monotone.

Ginjou snarled and spat, "Fuck you!"

It was the last thing he said.

XOXOXO

"I don't know, Shiro. Grimmjow won't answer his phone either."

"I'm worried," Shiro replied as he plopped onto the living room couch, snowy brows pulled into a deep scowl.

"Shin...Shin told me he loved me before he left. He's never said that shit to me before. Something's not right."

"What? That's stupid. You should be happy about that."

Ichigo didn't understand his brother's logic. He would be happy as hell if Grimmjow ever said that to him.

"King...I know that idiot. He shows what he wants ta say most of the time, 'specially with things like that."

"I don't get it. Maybe he's tryna change? You can't be so judgmental."

"I ain't bein' judgmental! I'm bein' real. Ya know what they do fer a livin'; how c'n ya be so nonchalant?"

Ichigo sat on the arm of the couch and shrugged. "Me and Grimmjow ain't get that far, that's why."

"But you love him, right?"

The question floored Ichigo. He hadn't expected Shiro to turn the conversation in that direction. _Did_ he love Grimmjow? _Could_ he? The blue-haired man was a hardcore gangster. A thug. A killer in every sense of the word. How the hell could he love someone like that? But then, images of that bright blue hair and those intense royal blue eyes filled his mind. That hard body, that deep, rough voice, those tattoos, that often-time cold but sincere personality: all of it was enough to convince him otherwise. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he would have to say that he'd already fallen for the man.

Again he shrugged, this time averting his gaze. "Maybe."

"Liar."

"Look, Shiro. Even if I do have feelings for the guy, that doesn't matter. I'm sure he'll never feel that way about me. Shit, we just started kissin' and havin' sex like normal people. What the fuck makes you think a dude like him would ever love anyone other than himself?"

"Because he already has. It just ended bad."

Ichigo paused at the new information. Did Shiro know something about Grimmjow's past? "What?"

"King, the guy was burned, cheated on and then stolen from by the one person he did love like that. It ain't gonna be easy ta ferget that."

"How do you know that?"

Shiro shrugged this time. "Shinji told me when I kept askin' him why Grimmjow was such an asshole ta you."

"Ya didn't have to do-"

"I know that. I wanted to know too, though."

They both fell silent as Ichigo used the time to ponder over what he'd just been told. So, that was why Grimmjow wouldn't let anyone in. Why the man had adamantly refused to treat him like a human being. It explained a lot. Actually, it explained everything. For instance, Ichigo now understood why the other man had reacted so drastically to what he'd done. After a betrayal like that, Ichigo's own betrayal must have felt like deja vu.

The doorbell ringing startled him out of his musings, making him glance at the apartment door with a frown. Who could that be at three-thirty in the morning? He peered over at his brother, who was also scowling at the door. It didn't make sense. If it was Shinji at the door, he would have just used his key to get inside. Meaning, Grimmjow would have done the same. He usually waited to come around with Shinji for that very reason. Ichigo had offered to give him a key, but the blue-haired man had refused, claiming it didn't make sense when he was always with Shinji anyway.

Ichigo slowly rose from his perch and moved to the door, nervous. He wasn't sure who was there and taking a trip all the way downstairs just to find out didn't appeal to him. Before he could make it to the door, though, it flew open, banging against the wall like a battering ram. Shinji stumbled inside, face flushed and clothes covered with blood. Ichigo's eyes went wide as he stepped back and watched his brother rush to the blond's side.

Shinji fell onto the couch and threw his head back, slanted, honey-brown eyes squeezed shut as he rested a tight fist against his forehead. His teeth were bared in an angry snarl, breathing harsh as his chest rose and fell quickly, as if he'd just been running.

"What the fuck happened? Are ya hurt?" Shiro yelled frantically as he felt Shinji's chest for any damage.

The blond didn't respond; he just sniffed shortly and that was when Ichigo noticed the presence of tears on the man's face. What the hell had happened to reduce the carefree Shinji to this state?

"Shin," Shiro continued, voice desperate. "What happened?"

Ichigo didn't want to seem selfish, but after going over to the door and looking for a certain blue-haired man before closing it, he was beginning to get worried himself. Had something happened to Grimmjow? Was that why Shinji looked like his dog died? The very thought almost made him topple to the floor. As it was, it was enough to make him bend slightly at the waist and grip his churning stomach. He couldn't even fathom what he would do if Grimmjow was hurt or worse. Even though he knew the man was a gang member, he couldn't wrap his mind around the thought of the guy getting killed. He seemed so invincible.

"Shinji, c'mon, yer scarin' the shit outta me," Shiro said softly.

Finally, the blond answered. "Starrk's dead."

Ichigo frowned and looked over at his brother. He remembered hearing that name somewhere, but it wasn't clicking. He started to ask, when Shiro's mouth fell open. A quiet intake of air was all the noise his brother made, but it was disturbing.

"What happened? Who's Starrk?"

Shiro turned to him and blinked a few times before licking his lips and replying. "That's their leader, King."

_Oh._

_OH_.

"So, wait. What does that mean? And where's Grimmjow?"

Shinji sat up and opened his eyes, the normally mischief orbs dead and cold. "He's busy." Ichigo opened his mouth to retort, but Shinji wasn't finished. "He's got a lotta shit ta do now that he's the new family leader."

Stuck and utterly shocked, all Ichigo could do was stare. Shiro gave him a sympathetic look after Shinji climbed to his feet and stormed to his and Shiro's room. He sat for a few seconds more before standing and following after the blond, the bedroom door closing quietly behind him. Now, Ichigo was really worried. What did that mean? Grimmjow was the new family leader, meaning he was the new head honcho of the Crips. He bit his bottom lip and lethargically made his way over to the vacated couch, where he sat heavily. How was he supposed to maintain any type of relationship with the man now? Wouldn't he be too busy? Would Grimmjow even want to keep seeing him? Not to mention, it was bad enough when Grimmjow had only been a regular gang member, but now that he was leading said gang, how could he hide that from his old man?

Tension gathered behind his eyes as he pulled his cell from his pocket. He brought up the recent calls log and hit Grimmjow's name again. The line rang twice before going to voice mail.

"Come on," he whispered. "Pick up."

He called again, getting the same results. He huffed and sat back against the cushions, heart laden with worried misery. He wouldn't be able to sleep if he couldn't get some answers. Right as he went to stand and go to his room, his phone went off in his hand, making him jump and stare down at it in shock. It wasn't a call, but it was a text message.

_Come downstairs._

Ichigo's stomach flipped as he launched himself from the couch, tripping over his feet as he went to the door and nearly fell down the stairs in his haste to get outside. He threw open the outside door and gaped at the sight of the tall, blue-haired man standing at the top of the porch stairs. Ichigo eyed the man carefully, alarm ringing sharply in his head when he registered blood on the man's white, long-sleeved shirt. He was so relieved to see the other man unharmed, he wanted to rush over to him and hug him, but the look on the guy's face kept him rooted in place. There was so much pain and anger and frustration in Grimmjow's deep blue eyes, and it hurt Ichigo. Literally made his heart twist and his chest tighten. Grimmjow had his hands in his jeans pockets as they locked gazes, stance casual, yet expression anything but. Before Ichigo could do or say anything, he spoke, voice gravelly and raw.

"I lost two people tanight."

That gave wings to Ichigo's feet as he rushed over to Grimmjow. He didn't throw his arms around the man the way he wanted to, but he reached a hand forward and tentatively touched the man's broad chest. A muscle in the gangster's jaw twitched as he looked down at the hand resting between his pectorals. Those piercing blue eyes lifted and caught Ichigo's brown ones again.

"I don't wanna lose another one."

Ichigo frowned, confused. "What are you talkin' about?"

"I got a price on my head, I kill people and now, I gotta take responsibility of my family. I can't...I don' wanna..." Grimmjow's voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed in pain. A deep breath and a harsh swallow later, he was speaking again. "I ain't gonna lose you too."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, though."

The other man's eyes sharpened. "I know an' I'm tryna keep it that way. Don' make this harder than it already is."

"Grimm, I don't know what you're talkin' about. Ya gotta explain this shit," Ichigo said, fear and frustration making his voice hoarse.

"I can't see you anymore."

The words cut like razors.

"W-what? Why?" he stuttered, still thoroughly baffled.

"I jus' told ya why."

"But that doesn't make sense! It was OK before, so why are you doin' this now?"

"Ichigo-"

"No! C'mon, Grimm. We just got started. I-I don't wanna let you go yet," he whispered, voice choking to a stop as he held back a disturbing sob.

His throat was tight as he held Grimmjow's slicing gaze. Why was this happening? He was caught so off guard and it left him completely unbalanced.

"Please, don't," he forced through clenched teeth.

Grimmjow sighed and ran a hand through his uncovered hair. "It ain't that easy."

"Why do you keep running away from me? Why do you keep leaving me? What the fuck is your problem?" Ichigo shouted, the tears he'd been holding back creeping down the sides of his face. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I don' hate you," Grimmjow said firmly.

"I don't get it, then! You always do this shit! Why can't-"

"Because I love you! OK? I love you, and I ain't tryna lose you, Ichigo."

Ichigo froze, blood roaring in his ears. _What? That...what?_ He shook his head, trying to clear the cloud of shock from his brain. He was hearing things. He had to be.

"What'd you jus' say?"

Grimmjow strolled over to him and stopped a mere few inches away before lifting his hand and running the thumb down the side of his face. "I only ever said this ta one other person, so listen good, aight? I love you."

"But...but you don't wanna be wit' me anymore. That's cruel," Ichigo said.

"Ya don't understand. It ain't because I don' care; it's 'cuz I wouldn' be able ta handle the guilt if somethin' happened ta you 'cuz a'me. Too many people are dead an' it's my fault. I don' wanna hafta add you ta that list. I never said we wouldn' be tagether later on, though. Maybe when this shit dies down, ya know?"

Entire body hurting, Ichigo lowered his eyes. Even though he hated to admit, Grimmjow was right. There was obviously too much going on at the moment and he would hate to be the cause of guilt for the man standing in front of him.

"You better come back," he said, lifting his eyes to lock with ocean blue again. "I don't wanna be in love for nothin'."

Grimmjow's eyebrows rose in shock before they relaxed into their normal position. "Oh yeah? What're ya tellin' me?"

Ichigo frowned. "I thought that much was obvious."

"I wanna hear it. I don' get ta hear that a lot."

 _Oh_.

After pressing his lips together, Ichigo nodded. "I love you too."

This time Grimmjow nodded and lowered his head, lips barely touching his. "Good. 'Cuz I ain't do all this changin' fer nothin'."

With that said, he connected their lips, but it was brief. Too brief, if you asked Ichigo. He wanted more, but knew that would be unwise, so instead he reluctantly stepped back and nodded again.

"You better go. If you stay any longer, I won't be able to let you leave," he said quietly.

Grimmjow nodded again this time. "Yeah. I'll see ya later, Ichigo."

Ichigo couldn't even nod, let alone speak. His throat was too tight, his heart too heavy. He wouldn't be sad, however. Grimmjow had given him hope and this go round, he would trust the man. He watched as the blue-haired gang member descended the stairs and slowly got into his truck before peeling away from the curb. Ichigo sat down on the top step and sighed.

_Don't keep me waiting long, Grimmjow._


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow mornin'."

"That's tragic," Shiro said quietly as he sipped a strawberry-banana milkshake with a long straw. "Do they know who did it?"

"'Course we do," Shinji grumbled, rolling onto his side and facing Shiro. "But it ain't about that, come tomorrow. Grimm jus' wants 'im ta rest in peace, ya know?"

The albino nodded and studied his light-green comforter. After Shinji had burst into the apartment the other day, looking like death warmed over and feeling even worse, Shiro had learned of the unfortunate deaths of two of the blond's acquaintances. One being their family leader, the other a teenager that had been firmly tucked beneath Grimmjow's wing. Shiro had heard that the boy had admired the blue-haired gangster so much, he'd even imitated the man's behavior.

"But...that means Grimmjow plans to do something about it afterward, right?" Shiro asked, giving Shinji a sideways glance.

The blond just stared at him, expression remaining indifferent. With a frown, he set his milkshake on the night stand and flopped onto his back, throwing his arms behind his head. That was just another thing to add to the long list of worries heaped onto his plate. His old man had called, asking for him and King to work another weekend, one of his younger sisters was pregnant even though she was only seventeen, and King...well, King was another story altogether. Shiro couldn't really say that his twin had resorted to his old destructiveness, but the orange-haired man _sulked_. Then, his attitude would turn chipper out of nowhere; it was creepy as hell. Almost like King was bipolar, or had multiple personalities. He could understand why, though.

Grimmjow had officially called their "relationship" quits two days ago, but this time, he didn't just disappear without a word. In a sense, the man had grown up, which was a good thing, but also probably why King pouted and slouched around the apartment one minute, then bounced around like a tennis ball the next. It was slightly disturbing, but like he'd said: perfectly understandable.

"C'mere," Shinji's voice and rough hand interrupted his thoughts.

Shiro turned to his boyfriend with a shark grin, mind already throwing itself into the gutter. He slid into the slim arms he'd gotten so accustomed to and inhaled deeply. He loved the way Shinji smelled fresh from the shower. Whether it was the shower gel he used, or just his natural scent, it made Shiro nearly swoon.

"Didja mean whatcha told me the other night?" he asked, disrupting the silence.

Shinji stilled, hand freezing against Shiro's back. Just as soon as he'd tensed, though, his muscles relaxed and he sighed.

"Ya callin' me a liar?"

"Asshole! Ya know what I meant to-"

His rant was cut short when Shinji chuckled darkly and kissed him. "I'm fuckin' witchu." There was a brief pause before the blond continued. "Yeah, I meant it. Did you?"

"Hell yeah. I ain't a liar, either."

"Hn."

The sheets rustled as his boyfriend made himself comfortable, thin but strong legs draping over his own. Shiro brushed Shinji's blond bang aside and grinned, eyes glued to the honey-brown irises staring down at him.

"Wha's that mean?"

"Don' mean nothin'. Tha's my way a'sayin' 'oh.'" Shinji's lips brushed over his before the man leaned back and locked eyes again. "Now ya gonna shut up so we can fuck, er what?"

Shiro outright laughed. "I love it when yer pushy."

"Yeah, I know."

XOXOXO

The office was more dim than usual, but there was no mistaking the imposing figure seated behind the large mahogany desk in front of him. He shifted his weight and tried not to stare too much. The man made him shiver and break out in a cold sweat.

"You've successfully pissed him off. Good job," the man stated.

His voice reminded him of cold hot chocolate. It was meant to be warm, but the lack thereof left a bad taste in the mouth.

He wasn't sure whether he should speak, so he decided to remain silent. The man's eyes were calculating as they roved over his body. He barely suppressed a shudder. Finally, the man held his gaze and gave a distant smile.

"You can have Ginjou's position. If you manage to prove yourself with your next task, I may even promote you again. You won't let me down, will you, Tousen?"

He shook his head, swallowing carefully. "No, Sir."

"Good. Ulquiorra will escort you to your vehicle. I look forward to excellent news by tomorrow evening."

Tousen nodded again before turning to the door and waiting for the short, dark-haired man to open it. Once the guy did, Tousen left the intimidating office and hurried out of the building to his car. His next job was one he'd been waiting on for the longest; it would get him the promotion he desired so much. He glanced over his shoulder at Aizen's right-hand man and smiled.

He couldn't wait.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow passed a hand over his face as he stood over the resting place of the man he'd considered a father figure. With the way Starrk had died, it had been impossible to give him a proper funeral and burial, so all the family had gathered earlier that evening to cremate him in his favorite place along the deserted part of the river. It had been emotional and exhausting, and he was just ready to go home and sleep off the pain. However, his body was restless, as was his heart. His mind wouldn't settle down, either. He kept thinking about how angry he was at the death of two more people close to him. Di Roy's funeral was scheduled for tomorrow morning and even though he was skeptical about attending, he knew he would feel even guiltier if he _didn't_.

It was three hours after Starrk's cremation and memorial ritual and _still_ he couldn't find the energy to leave. He didn't really want to be alone at the moment. Sighing and knowing it was unwise, he reached into his back pocket and withdrew his cell. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at the man's name on his contact list. He'd already told the guy he couldn't see him anymore; it was for his safety, after all. But now he felt the need to be with him.

One last time.

He shook his head and slid the phone back into his pocket. He was _hopeless_. Pivoting on his heel, he stalked to his Acura, hands shoved into the pockets of his navy-blue hoodie. He jumped inside and started it up, the engine roaring to life. "HYFR" by Drake and Lil Wayne poured from the speakers, bass making the interior feel like it was on the verge of crumbling apart. He peeled away from the river and screeched onto the main road, headed across town. The streets seemed deserted, no one daring to come outside after the massacre the other night. That was probably a wise decision because even though all was calm for now, Grimmjow knew things were about to get even uglier.

He periodically checked the rear-view mirror just to be sure he wasn't being followed, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he wasn't. Ten minutes later found him parking in front of a familiar house, the light on the porch shining invitingly. He pressed his lips together, inwardly debating with himself as he shut the engine off. This was all kinds of dangerous and wrong, especially since he'd already agreed not to see the man living inside, but he had nowhere else to go. Shinji had someone to comfort him, someone he could go to when he was hurting, but Grimmjow didn't. Not anymore. Well, not in the technical sense anyway.

Still...

He stared at the house a bit more, his heart rate picking up. Should he go inside? Should he see him? He shook his head and decided to let the irrational side of himself have free reign. He snatched the keys from the ignition and swung the door open. Once his feet hit the pavement, his mind was made up for certain. He slowly strolled to the house, up the stairs of the porch and stood before the door. He glared at the doorbell, wishing he had a key instead. If only he'd taken Ichigo's offer... Just as he raised his hand to ring the bell, the door was snatched open.

"I thought that was you."

Grimmjow swallowed his surprise before smiling. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, man. The noise ya make wit' that damned thing is unmistakable."

Shinji wore a smirk as he stood in the doorway, arm braced against the frame. Grimmjow smirked back and shook his head.

"Yeah, well...I got somethin' ta do."

"Dontcha mean some _one_?"

"Move, stupid. Is he here?"

"Yeah, he's here. He might be sleep, though. He's been callin' it a night early the last couple days."

"Hn."

"C'mon, it's cold out here and I wanna get back in bed," Shinji said with a sly wink.

Grimmjow nodded and followed his blond best friend up the stairs after shutting the front door. They moved quietly until they reached the living room, where Shinji closed the door and gave him a two-fingered salute before heading towards the bedroom he shared with Ichigo's twin brother. After the guy disappeared behind that door, Grimmjow took a deep breath and looked at the closed one of Ichigo's room. So, the orange-haired man had been going to bed early, then? Well, at least he was getting rest. _Grimmjow_ , on the other hand, hadn't been able to sleep for the past two days. There had been too much going on, for one thing, and he'd been way too restless, for another.

He forced his feet to move until he was standing in front of Ichigo's room door. Should he knock? But what if the guy was sleeping? He didn't want to wake him up. Then again, wasn't that what he'd come there for in the first place? Running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that night, he blew out an exasperated breath. _Man up, G_.

He twisted the doorknob and cautiously cracked open the door. He peered inside, noting the dimness. The only light came from the bright green display on Ichigo's stereo, casting the eerie glow over the bed, walls and carpet. His heart seemed to shudder to a stop as he took in the sight before him. Once his eyes adjusted, they immediately honed in on the figure seated on the side of the bed, orange head hanging. Grimmjow stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself without a sound as he watched Ichigo. What was he doing? He looked closer and noticed Ichigo was holding a tiny slip of paper. If he didn't know any better, he would say the paper resembled the one he'd hastily written a message on a few months ago. He frowned and started to edge forward but stopped when he heard Ichigo speaking lowly.

"I feel like a girl right now, but it's OK 'cuz no one can see me. This is the only way I can talk to you anyway. I know you said not being around me was for my safety, but...this sucks. I feel pathetic 'cuz I _miss_ you. Heh. It's only been a couple of days since I last saw you, but it feels longer. I wonder what you're doin' right now. I hope you're OK. No, I _know_ you're OK. You told me you'd come back and I trust you to keep your word this time."

Grimmjow winced and grasped the spot over his aching heart. All these years, the life he led had never made him feel so bad. So _guilty_. So fucking _regretful_. This time he did move a little closer. He searched his mind for something to say, something to do, but Ichigo's short chuckle made him freeze.

"I remember when it seemed like you didn't even like me, but now...now you say you love me. How crazy is that?"

"Insane," Grimmjow said quietly enough not to scare Ichigo, but loud enough for him to hear.

Ichigo still jumped, eyes the size of discs as they swung around and landed on him. His mouth dropped open as he shot to his feet and clutched the note in his hand.

"What-what are you doin' here?" he asked.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes in pain. Two days. Only two days had passed, but like Ichigo had stated earlier, it had felt like a lifetime. Hell, he'd missed him.

"I need you," he said.

Ichigo frowned but dropped the note. It only took a second for the orange-haired man to come to him, arms automatically wrapping around his neck. He grabbed Ichigo's waist and held on tight as their lips urgently connected. It was like an electrical charge the way the kiss affected him. Like everything that had happened was only the prelude to something even more amazing.

"You've never said that to me before," Ichigo said, pulling back slightly, but hands going for the hem of Grimmjow's hoodie.

He was equally busy, hands trying to rid the other man of his form-fitting white tee. "I never wanted to before."

Ichigo groaned softly and pulled Grimmjow's hoodie over his head, tossing it to the side carelessly. Grimmjow did the same with Ichigo's tee before closing the space between their faces and kissing him again, this time deepening it and backing their bodies towards the bed. After a lot of meditative thought, he'd come to the conclusion that he was _indeed_ _weak_. But only when it came to the man in front of him. Only Ichigo had the power to make him lose sight of all reason, of all logic. He alone could make him go against everything he'd ever stood for.

Ichigo stopped when the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed, but Grimmjow didn't waste any time. He hurriedly rid himself of the white tee he wore under his hoodie before going for his jeans. The other man had a bit of an advantage, since the only article of clothing he still wore was a loose pair of How the Grinch Stole Christmas boxers. All it took was a quick yank and a few steps to be rid of those. The blue-haired gangster was distracted by the sight of all that skin, making him stop what he was doing just so he could stare. Ichigo grinned, but it didn't have its usual sauciness.

"You OK?" he asked.

"...I'm better now."

How sentimental did he plan to get?

Ichigo's ears turned red as he averted his eyes. "That's not fair."

That made Grimmjow frown, but before he opened his mouth to ask the question that would inevitably ruin the evening, he thought about things. Ichigo was right. This whole situation was unfair to the man, yet, Grimmjow couldn't bring himself to back away. Couldn't bring himself to do what he knew was right. Ichigo's eyes slowly met his again and the look of pain there was devastating. He gritted his teeth and looked away. He didn't _want_ to leave. He wanted to be with the one person that meant the world to him right now, but not if it caused the man to hurt like that.

"Ya want me ta go?" he asked slowly, fearing the orange-haired man's answer.

Warm, syrupy-brown eyes softened. "No. I don' want you to leave, but...I won't be able to _let_ you leave, either."

Grimmjow put his arms around Ichigo and stared down at the shorter man. "Don' think about that right now." He lifted one of the other man's hands and pressed it to his bare chest. "Jus' be here for me. It's selfish, I know, but...like I said: I need you."

Ichigo gave a deep sigh and let his head drop. His voice seemed to come from his feet when he spoke.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

Ichigo's head came up and those intense brown eyes locked onto him. " _Why_ do you need me?"

Grimmjow clenched his teeth together and studied the man in front of him. Ichigo was basically asking for what _used_ to be the impossible, and from the look on the man's face, it appeared Ichigo still believed it was impossible. He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips.

"'Cuz you broke through my defenses. You made me feel things I didn't want to feel anymore, didn't think I _could_ feel anymore. You piss me off, but then you make me laugh. You look at me and _nothing_ else exists. I thought it was just sex at first...until I started wanting to be with you just for the company." He felt his throat tightening, so he paused and took a few breaths, hand abruptly plowing through his hair. After a helpless sigh, he went on. "'Cuz...'cuz I don' want anyone else. Even when I _thought_ I did, I really _didn't_. God, Ichigo, what else ya want me ta say?" He shrugged and frowned. "I love you."

Ichigo hadn't moved an inch since Grimmjow had started speaking. Hell, it looked like he wasn't even breathing. But then his eyes went glassy and he gave a genuine smile.

"Then, here's to one last hoo-rah, yeah?"

Grimmjow let a crooked grin slip through as he let Ichigo's hand go. He went back to getting himself undressed, still holding eye contact with the guy that had so thoroughly demolished all of his walls. It had been a long time since he'd last felt comfortable telling another man that he loved him, but this go ‘round, things were different. He could see it in Ichigo's mesmerizing brown eyes.

Once he was naked, he straightened and pulled Ichigo to him, instantly leaning forward and kissing him. Of all the times they'd had sex, he was sure this time would be much more emotional. There was always something about letting another person in that made moments like this deeper. More intense. The orange-haired man's strength was incredible, not to mention beautiful. He hadn't expected Ichigo to just let things run with the flow, but he had. Grimmjow's hand ran up the middle of the other man's muscular back, gently massaging the shoulder before tightening around the back of his neck. The kiss turned abysmal, neither man trying to dominate, but rather enjoying the intimacy of the action. Ichigo's hands came up around his back too, the slightly roughened palms traveling over his shoulder blades and the muscles between them. Grimmjow sighed. It felt so good having the shorter man touch him this way, especially now when he was perfectly comfortable with it.

All of his senses were heightened as he rubbed his body against the other man's, heart racing. His lips left Ichigo's mouth and traveled down over his jaw, then even lower to his neck, where he paused to place small kisses and gentle licks. The orange-haired man grunted and gave his own sigh, the sounds passionate and arousing. One of Ichigo's hands became wayward, sliding down over the dip where his ass met the small of his back and tightening. Grimmjow smiled into the curve of Ichigo's neck before nipping, warning him not to get too carried away. The man chuckled, husky baritone throaty and lust-filled. There was something else there as well. Warmth.

After getting his fill of the soft column, he straightened and pressed his hands against Ichigo's chest, indicating he wanted him to lay back on the bed. He was anxious to feel more and make Ichigo feel more at the same time. He wanted to hear the other man's moans, sighs and groans: all the little noises that drove him to distraction. Ichigo willingly complied and settled on the bed, knees raised and upper body resting on his hands. Then, as if just remembering, he rolled onto his side and reached towards the nightstand. Confused at first, all he did was watch the younger man. Once Ichigo produced a small bottle of lubricant, however, things clicked. Grimmjow leaned over the side of the bed and dug through the pocket of his jeans, searching for the small packet of foil containing the protection they needed. When he turned back, Ichigo's eyes were focused on the bed, brows furrowed. Inwardly panicking, he started to ask what the problem was, when Ichigo spoke up.

"I didn't...I don't...ah...never mind."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ichigo replied hastily.

"Yer lyin' ta me. Don' do that."

Twisting uneasily, the other man kept his eyes rooted to the comforter. "It's just...I mean...I don't wanna sound like a bad commercial sayin' this."

"Stop stallin'," Grimmjow growled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

What was Ichigo going on about?

Those deep brown eyes sharpened and narrowed belligerently. "Alright, you ass. I don't want anything between us. Happy now?"

He felt the blood drain from his face before he could cover his reaction. So Ichigo had that kind of nuclear warfare up his sleeve, huh? He took a deep breath and looked away from the man in front of him. This was bad. Yes, he'd already had sex with the guy without protection previously, but that was before Ichigo had gone and fooled around with that idiot Ginjou. Even still, he had his own past to consider. Yero had ruined him for the next man in a sense, and he was only gradually recovering from that incident. How could he explain that to Ichigo, though?

When he lifted his eyes to give his attention to the other man, he noticed Ichigo's gaze was searing into his, challenging him. So he answered it.

"I can't do that, Ichigo."

It was Ichigo's turn to have the color leave his face in a hurry. "What're you tryin' to say?"

"I'm sayin' I can't give you what you want. Not right now, anyway."

The orange-haired man's jaw clenched and twitched with barely restrained anger. "Why?" he gritted. "Is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?"

Eyes widening, Grimmjow froze. He had to hand it to the man; when he got it right, he got it right. But would Ichigo understand his reasons for not wanting to have unprotected sex? Was he ready to take that step and tell him about his shameful past? Tell him why he'd had those walls thrown up around him in the first place? Another glance at Ichigo gave him his answers.

"Yeah...there is, actually."

Ichigo frowned, obviously taken off guard. Then, after a heavy sigh, a smile crept over those handsome features, lighting his eyes and smoothing away the angry creases. It was Grimmjow's turn to scowl. He hadn't been expecting that sort of reaction at all.

"So, tell me. We got a few hours."

So, this was it, then. He took another deep breath and dove right in. If Ichigo wanted to know, he would tell him. Maybe it would take some of the shame he felt away.

"I had a guy before. Years ago."

"Really? Ya don't say."

"Shut up, fuckin' smart ass." Ichigo smiled at him and Grimmjow withered. Why was it so hard to stay mad at the guy? "So, the guy. I, uh, I'd met him a little after I joined the family. We got along good, we did a lotta shit tagether, and I thought he really cared about me, ya know? Guess I was wrong. He was the one guy – before you – that I let in that way. Turns out I was jus' somethin' for him ta brag about to his friends. He didn' really give a fuck about me."

"But you couldn't tell that ahead of time?" Ichigo interrupted, head cocked to the side.

"We were tagether three years. Would you have seen it after that long?"

"I guess not. What happened to make you realize he didn't feel the same way you did?"

The blue-haired gangster felt his eyes narrow and his lips purse as he recalled that time. He remembered perfectly. "Heh. The first sign was little shit. He started stayin' out all hours of the night and not answerin' his phone when I called ta see if he was OK. At first, I thought he just wanted some space, ya know? Then, I got a nasty wake-up call." He paused and swallowed harshly, hands drawing up into fists. "Woke up one mornin', wondering why the fuck I was pissin' razor blades an' itchin' an' shit. Shinji told me ta go check it out. I mean, I already had an idea, but that bitch denial is jus' that: a bitch."

Ichigo hissed and made an "oh shit" face. "Oh man."

"Yeah, but that was jus' the beginning. Got checked out and found that it was gonorrhea. The doctor cured it, of course, but you don' jus' forget shit like that. I went ta confront him. He was s'posed ta be home, but when I got there..." his voice trailed off as he studied the wall across the room. Fury pulsed in his veins along with his heartbeat as he tried to get himself together. After taking a moment to close his eyes and just breathe, he was finally able to calm down enough to go on. "The safe in my room was standin' wide open and there was a note on the dresser. I'll never forget what it said for as long as I live."

"...Well, what did it say?" Ichigo gently pressed.

"I don't need you anymore. I'm taking what I deserve and leaving with Mari. Thanks for the good time."

Ichigo's mouth slowly fell open as he stared. "Are you joking? That's a joke, right? NO one could be that fuckin' heartless."

The look on his face must have convinced Ichigo otherwise because he frowned and shook his head.

"What a fuckin' prick," he muttered.

Grimmjow wanted to nod his agreement, but memories held him hostage. His upper lip curled back in disgust as shame nearly made him drown. Thinking about Aaroniero made him want to beat the shit out of something or someone, while simultaneously making him feel incredibly stupid. He didn't register the rustling of the bed covers until a warm hand ran through his hair. He shook away the unpleasant feelings and gave his full attention to the brown eyes peering down at him. Ichigo had climbed to his knees and scooted over to him.

"You shoulda told me that before. I get it now, though. Whenever you're ready, OK?"

"Heh. What's this? You comforting me now?" he teased. Orange brows drew together into a scowl, but before Ichigo could snap, Grimmjow continued after allowing his expression to relax. "Thank you."

"That's better," the younger man murmured before sliding the hand that was buried in bright blue hair down to the back of Grimmjow's neck.

Ichigo's lips came down to his, brushing across them softly at first before becoming more aggressive and prying them apart. Once the other man's tongue slipped into his mouth, heat fanned over his pelvis and spread up to his stomach. His insides flipped as arousal doused him from head to toe. He lifted a hand and let it glide up Ichigo's strong thigh, then up to his narrow hip where he allowed it to settle and squeeze. He never wanted to let this man go, but life wasn't fair. It wasn't easy and most times it was far from fun. Of course, there was the chance that Ichigo wouldn't want to be bothered with him anymore, especially while they had to be apart, but he hoped that wasn't the case.

Ichigo moaned into the kiss and awakened Grimmjow's inner animal. It had been dormant for some time, but driven by those sounds, it was easily revived. He used the hand on Ichigo's hip to guide the shorter man back down to the bed, where he could take his time – or not – and pillage that perfect body. The smile Ichigo gave him as a result only served to make his libido spike dangerously. He growled under his breath and settled himself on top of the orange-haired man, taking only a moment to lower his head and inhale the titillating scent drifting up to him. It was like an aphrodisiac. Ichigo turned his head and found his lips, kissing him again, but this time more intensely. Brown eyes were closed and orange brows pulled together in a pleasurable scowl. He was completely wanton and Grimmjow loved it. He spread Ichigo's legs, fitting himself between them and grunting quietly when their naked erections rubbed together. It was like someone had started a fire in his groin and spread oil over it just to make it burn brighter. And then Ichigo went and threw a can of hairspray into the flame. His hand crept between their bodies, the slow progress making goosebumps spring up all over his body. Fingers tickled his abdomen and pelvis until they reached the spot where his pubic hair began, making his belly jump. The younger man pulled out of the kiss and locked eyes with him, smirking mischievously. And then his hand dipped even lower and wrapped around his straining length. He sucked in a breath and narrowed his already hooded blue eyes as Ichigo began slowly stroking him. It was like languidly fanning a bonfire. Soon enough, he found his eyes closing completely and head rolling to the side as he thoroughly enjoyed what was happening.

Demanding lips came up and touched his chin before coasting underneath it to his Adam's apple. His own lips parted when Ichigo mouthed the small protrusion. It was an odd sensation, but the erotic implication turned him on. Suddenly, his hips jerked of their own accord, making him realize that Ichigo's hand had picked up speed. Sneaky. Struggling his way out of the haze of arousal surrounding him, he made his own hands busy. He rested his weight on the left and lifted the other man's left knee with his right. Ichigo tried to hide a gasp, but it didn't work. Grimmjow gave a lop-sided smirk and leisurely let the back of his hand travel down Ichigo's raised thigh. The man's legs began trembling as he bit his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut. That didn't last long when Grimmjow let his hand feather lower, coasting alarmingly close to the shorter man's exposed entrance. He cupped one rounded lower cheek before brushing a finger teasingly over the tight pucker. He dipped his head and captured Ichigo's surprised moan with his mouth. He loved messing with the orange head, bringing him to a fever pitch before allowing him to relax, just to do it all over again.

This time, however, he'd dug himself a neat little hole. Ichigo's hand slowed and made him pull out of the kiss in confusion. He hadn't meant to make the man stop. Then he noticed the expression on the other man's face.

"I can play too," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, guess what."

Ichigo grinned up at him, maple eyes half-lidded. "Chicken butt?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes before placing his mouth right beside Ichigo's ear. "I play harder."

He ground his hips against the orange-haired man's lifted bottom to drive his point home and drew a startled groan. Ichigo's hand briefly tightened around his shaft, but abruptly let go, flying up to cling to his shoulder.

"OK, OK!" he gasped. "I get it."

"What was that?" Grimmjow asked, twisting his hips and grinding again, this time rubbing his erection between the seam of the smaller man's ass.

"Oh man," Ichigo groaned. "You play too much. J-just do it already."

He chortled darkly and nosed the man's cheek. "It ain't that easy, Ichigo," he rumbled, enjoying the way the guy whimpered helplessly.

"Please?"

"Uhn-uhn."

"Pretty please?"

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement. That was one of the reasons he loved Ichigo. He always knew how to make him laugh, even if he didn't really mean to.

"OK, OK. With sugar on top. All that good shit. Just fuckin' do me already. Shit."

That made him outright laugh and stare down into irritated brown eyes. "Yer an idiot, ya know that?"

Ichigo's agitation melted away as he tilted his head and gave a saucy smirk. "Maybe. Does that mean you're gonna fuck me now?"

"Mmm...I guess so," he said begrudgingly.

"What's with that answer? A little excitement would be-"

Grimmjow cut him off by kissing him and covertly reaching for the abandoned bottle of lubricant. Ichigo sighed and allowed Grimmjow to have his way with him, meaning he didn't speak or protest anymore. But it was only a matter of time before the feisty, temperamental red head snapped at him again. Deciding to get around all that, he kept the man distracted with a deep kiss full of tongue and plenty of throaty growls while he deftly covered his fingers with the clear, slick substance. Just as he'd thought, Ichigo pulled out of the kiss and frowned at him.

"What the hell is takin-"

Again, he shut him up, but this time he used a lubricated finger. Ichigo sucked in a quick breath, eyes squeezing shut as he let his head fall back against a pillow.

"Not talkin' now?" Grimmjow asked quietly.

"S-shut up. Mm," the orange-haired man moaned. "You sneaked me."

Another finger nestled inside the man's gripping passage and Ichigo grunted, head turning to the side. This was the part that was hard to deal with. Grimmjow had no patience and waiting for Ichigo to loosen up so he could get into him was like walking on a bed of nails. He was so hard it hurt. Reaching for the condom by his knee, he added another finger, Ichigo's walls hugging all three tight. It was torture. He kept imagining how it felt to have another body part buried in that same spot, this one much more sensitive. While he stroked the other man's insides, he ripped the foil package open, careful to avoid his teeth. He used his lips to pull it out, then cautiously rolled it over his aching arousal, Ichigo's hissing and desperate moans almost making him snarl in frustration. He withdrew his fingers and realized with perfect clarity that he wasn't the only one frustrated. Ichigo sucked his teeth, opened his gorgeous eyes and glared up at him. Before he could speak, Grimmjow lined himself up and surged forward, not very gentle in the least bit. He growled as heat engulfed him.

 _Oh, hell yeah_.

Ichigo gasped loudly, the air obviously knocked completely from his lungs. Grimmjow didn't even wait; he immediately started a grueling pace as he lifted and spread the orange head's legs by the backs of his knees. Ichigo's arms reached over his head, hands clutching the bottom of the headboard as his mouth dropped open. He was so loud, so pornographic, it was delicious. The blue-haired gangster grunted, engrossed in the tight heat massaging his shaft and the way his balls briefly settled in the crack of the smaller man's bottom with each forceful thrust.

Normally, he would speak. Talk hella shit. Right now, he couldn't, though. His mouth was dry as desert air as it hung open and he reminded himself to breathe. Sweat gradually formed along his upper lip and under his arms. Along his lower back and lower abdomen. Along his hairline. God, he was a mess. And then, Ichigo used his hips to aid his thrusts, the movements causing him to sink even deeper.

"Shit," he whispered to himself.

Ichigo licked his lips provocatively before moaning and moving even faster, consequently making Grimmjow's hips speed up to keep pace. Before he knew it, he was letting loose a steady stream of groans and curses, immersed in the loud sound of skin coming together and harsh breathing. He was close. So was Ichigo. His back kept rising from the mattress as his moans grew longer and lower in pitch, not to mention his knuckles were white from gripping the headboard so tightly. Grimmjow let Ichigo's legs go and positioned them over his shoulders after resting his weight on his fists. He leaned over even further and engaged the orange-haired man in a messy kiss.

It was almost too good.

In fact, if Ichigo kept moving that way it _would_ be too good. The younger man's legs tightened around Grimmjow's neck, the action causing a lot more friction between his abdomen and Ichigo's nearly urgent erection. Blowing out a "get it together" breath, he tried to slow down – he wanted it to last longer – but the other man had other plans.

Fire swept across his pelvis and licked his groin. He felt the tell-tale lift of his balls and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. And then, as if Ichigo could sense that very fact, the orange head clenched his insides repetitively as he frantically bucked his hips. That was about it for Grimmjow. He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress a loud roar, but it didn't really work. Instead of the roar he expected, however, he hissed before emitting a harsh cry, bright blue eyes shut in rapture.

Although he was caught up in what felt like the second coming of Christ, he still managed to register Ichigo's orgasm. His inner walls shuddered, his legs clamped down around Grimmjow's neck even more, and he threw his head back, neck straining and mouth wide open, revealing picture perfect teeth. Thin streams of semen reached up towards his abdomen and almost to his chest as he panted and rode the waves of his release. Grimmjow smiled and leaned forward, uncaring of the other man's essence rubbing off on his own abdomen. He kissed the space between bright orange brows and sighed, lowering himself on top of Ichigo.

"Goddamn, I'm tired," he huffed, burying his face into the other man's neck.

"Haha! It was worth it, though."

He turned to meet those brown eyes and nodded shortly. "Yeah, it was."

After that, they didn't really speak. Grimmjow rid himself of the used condom and rolled over beside Ichigo as the man leaned to his left and retrieved a few tissues from the nightstand. He meticulously cleaned them both, discarded the tissues, then draped himself over the blue-haired man's chest, fingers absently toying with the raised marks of his tattoos. It didn't last long, the silence.

"Isn't that kid's funeral tomorrow?" Ichigo asked quietly, deep voice exhausted.

"Di. Yeah, it is. Why?"

"Uh, you think it's OK if I come?"

Grimmjow considered it, mind going over all the reasons the orange-haired man shouldn't go. But then again, if the guy really wanted to be there, who could stop him? He'd found the hard way that Ichigo was like a bull in a china shop when he wanted something.

"Ya wanna go? Ya didn't even know him."

"Yeah, that's true, but I know _you_. Isn't that enough?"

He shook his head and turned onto his side so he could look Ichigo in the eye. "Yeah. Go to sleep. I'll get you up in the morning."

He caught the quick glimpse of panic in Ichigo's eyes before it was snuffed out. Just like him, Ichigo still had some trauma from what had occurred between them, but also like him, Ichigo was obviously trying to get past it.

"Alright. Night," he mumbled as he flopped onto his stomach.

Grimmjow spoke through a long yawn. "Night."

XOXOXO

The morning was crisp, a strong breeze making leaves swirl around like swooping kites. Ichigo blinked as he climbed the stairs of the stone church, Shiro and Shinji at his side. He glanced over his shoulder and refused to smile like a goofy toddler at the sight of the blue-haired man that had finally spent the night with him the proper way. While Ichigo wore a form-fitting, black sweater and black khaki pants, Grimmjow wore a black button-up shirt, a black, silk tie and black slacks. He didn't have a hat covering his wild blue locks and the shirt's sleeves were rolled to mid fore-arm. Even mourning, the man oozed a massive amount of sex appeal. Hands in his pockets, he climbed the stairs behind Ichigo slowly. Ichigo felt bad for him, he really did, but he wasn't about to smother the man with affection. It would only piss him off. It was enough that the man had allowed him to be there in the first place. He wasn't about to ruin the moment being an annoying prick.

Shinji paused at the top of the stairs, turning back to face Grimmjow. The blond gangster wore a black vest over a black dress shirt and black slacks. Even he looked spiffy, but now wasn't the time to acknowledge it. Shiro wore an outfit identical to Ichigo's, unruly pale hair tamed for the time being. His eyes were serious as he waited behind Shinji to enter the church. Overall, the small group held a somber atmosphere, but that was to be expected.

They walked into the church together and found seats close to the back. It made sense that Grimmjow and Shinji didn't want to bring unnecessary attention their way. The casket up front was pitch black and shiny, the upper half opened and revealing a young boy with hair the same color as Shiro's. It was stiflingly tragic, especially after surveying the crowd and noticing an older couple huddled in the front pew, clutching each other as the woman cried loudly. Then, there was the red-haired boy seated in the left front pew, eyes rooted to the casket. He was silent, but tears paved a steady path down the sides of his face. Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away. He couldn't stand all the sadness.

He took a chance and peered over at Grimmjow seated beside him. The blue-haired man stared at the casket with a frown etched deeply across his face, lips pursed tightly. Face flushed and ears red, the gang member seemed like he was on the verge of throwing one hell of a tantrum. His large hands were balled into fists and resting against his bouncing knees. Ichigo didn't get it, but he carefully eased his own hand under one of Grimmjow's fists, coaxing the taller man to release it and try to relax. The look the man pinned him with afterward was so disturbing, it was scary. There was pain, uncertainty and fear written all over the man's face and buried deeply in those glacial eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo whispered, confused.

Grimmjow shook his head abruptly and turned to face the front of the church again. The service was starting because a man dressed in a long robe stalked to the podium on the raised platform behind the casket. There was singing by a choir, then there were people chosen from the crowd to speak on the boy's behalf, but Ichigo only lent it half an ear. His main concern was the man at his side, behaving like he was on the way to his own execution.

"Are you sure you're good?"

Grimmjow stood with the rest of the audience as the pallbearers surrounded the casket and lifted it into the air. Ichigo grudgingly followed suit, but kept his eye on the blue-haired man. Something wasn't right; in fact, one could say something was very wrong. He glanced past Grimmjow at Shinji, but the blond seemed normal. His expression wasn't its usual devilish one, but he didn't seem panicked and scared. Maybe funerals made Grimmjow uptight. That could be a good explanation for the man's odd behavior. The casket gradually left the church, the pallbearers carrying it to the hearse parked at the curb. The boy's body would be carried to the local cemetery, where he would be buried. Grimmjow and Shinji hadn't planned to go that far, but Ichigo thought it only made sense after going to the service. They might as well go all the way. The two gangsters had refused, however, so it was out of his hands.

The family followed behind the casket first, then the rest of the congregation exited the church. The casket was loaded up, as well as the plethora of flowers the boy had received, the family was trundled into a long black limo parked behind the hearse, and not long after that both vehicles disappeared. The service had lasted about an hour and a half, which wasn't very long.

Shinji stood at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets and Shiro standing next to him. "What now?" he asked.

Grimmjow stepped down the stairs and turned his back to them. "Leave. Now. Get him outta here."

The hairs all over Ichigo's body stood up straight as he focused on the blue-haired man. What was going on? He hadn't heard Grimmjow sound that dangerous since the night the man had shot him. He swung his gaze around to Shinji and was relieved to see that he wasn't the only one confused and taken off guard. Shiro's eyes were wide and Shinji wore a deep frown as he stared at Grimmjow's back.

"Shinji!" Grimmjow barked, glancing over his shoulder. "Do it!"

Shinji visibly jumped, hands coming out of his pockets immediately. He started towards him, but Ichigo quickly dipped around him. His heart was in his throat by now, he was so nervous and baffled. He didn't get far, though. Shinji managed to snag the back of his shirt and pull him back, his other arm out and pushing at Shiro's chest.

"Move! Let's go!" the blond yelled, voice cracking as he shot his first uncertain glance in his best friend's direction.

"What's goin' on?" Ichigo shouted. "I'm not movin' til you tell me somethin'!"

He was so scared. If Shinji looked like that, then he was certain something bad was about to happen. And then he spotted exactly why everyone was in a panic. A bunch of guys dressed from head to foot in red, black and white emerged from the park across the street, led by the dark-haired man Ichigo remembered getting into a scuffle with a while back. There were about ten of them. What the fuck? Why was Grimmjow just standing there? Why wasn't he hauling ass until he could prepare himself to fight them back?

"What are you doin', stupid! Run!" he screamed, even as Shinji began man-handling him away. The blond was pretty strong to be so slender. Shiro didn't help matters as he grabbed Ichigo's shoulder and tugged at him too. "No! No, please! Wait! Shinji help him! He can't fight them all by himself! Why won't you do somethin'?" he yelled, unaware that tears were sliding down over his cheeks.

Shinji's honey-brown orbs narrowed as he paused for a brief second. "I can't ignore an order," he gritted through clenched teeth.

Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow, eyes wide with panic. Oceans of blue met his frightened gaze, calm and steady as a light house in the midst of a hurricane. And then the shots started, jerking the taller man's body in several different directions as bullets tore through his shirt and blood stained the stone stairs. Ichigo's mouth formed a devastated "O" as he watched the gruesome scene. He only had time to see the man fall to the stairs in a crumpled sort of heap before being dragged away from the church, bullets sailing past his head and pinging into the stone walls of the church.

He didn't realize he was screaming until they were all shoved into Shinji's car, the blond wearing tear streaks down the side of his face as he screeched out of the parking lot.


End file.
